Shatter Star
by WildCardRose
Summary: One, a slave with opinions & language beyond her station, Another,her master, intrigured by it. One,a sensual virgin who lets her mouth run away with her,the other shrouded in complete awe & desire to bed her.So how did their two worlds become one? ROMY
1. Shatter Star: Part 1

**_A/N: _**I suppose I should let a couple of you know why I am creating a new story when I two others to update? Well in a way I suppose its punishment. Hardly _anyone_ reviewed _HOTD_ so I decided, hey, I'll give them my first Chappie of the story that's been on my mind for ages, and then go on holiday and let them wait for the next one, hahahaha. Yea, I'm evil.

The other reason is, well basically I have to get this chapter out of my head, I wrote it down but it just won't leave me alone. So here it is. A new story of mine (which promises to be less confusing :D) and, amazing, I have written down a plot for this :).

So here it is, be my guest and hate me, but bear in mind that flames do not make me update any faster.

I do not mind constructive criticism; in fact I welcome it. But remember there is a fine line between constructive criticism and flaming. Beware, if you flame me, I will laugh and ignore you.

Once again, the characters aren't mine.

_**Forever In My Garden**_

She rose from the bed, straining her ears for the slightest sound. There. She heard it again. She crept to the door, hearing only the whisper of silk across her skin. The nightgown had been a gift from her friend of high connections, connections it was wrong of her to have.

Somewhere above her someone moved, she could hear the frustrated whispers and the squeak of a floorboard as too much weight was placed upon it. But the noise that held her interest was not above her, oh no…

It was below, at the door.

Silently, she pulled the door open only three quarters of the way, any more and it would squeak. Cautiously, she peered out.

She was AnnaMarie Darkholme. An orphan. Nineteen years of age and at work already. With a beauty beyond her years. Flowing auburn hair that shimmered like water when she turned her head in the slightest way, and whispered across her shoulders like a curtain of silk. Her features were symmetrical, her skin, bronzed and flawless, seemed to glow with the radiance of a queen. Her stunning, thickly lashed eyes were the color of Jade and could cast jealousy into the hearts of many an empress.

But AnnaMarie was not an empress. In fact, she was far from it.

She had made it to the top of the marble balcony before she heard it again, and this time the noise was unmistakable.

Her eyes widened in realization. She backed away slowly, still watching the door in case it made any sudden movements, and then her thoughts fled to her brother.

Stealthily, she followed them.

**_XxX _**

Alexander Robinson cursed and tore the cigarette from his mouth. Sometimes he bloody hated his job.

The door was steel, inches thick, and disguised as oak. Heavy brass bolts studded it, and the lions head knocker seemed to leer at him, stating 'Ha-ha-you-can't-get-in-because-you-should-have-knocked.'

Xander sighed and resisted the temptation to stick his middle finger up at it, it wouldn't do well if his team thought he was going nuts now would it?

He lapsed into silence, thinking of a way round his predicament. His predicament being the front door. The front door being their entrance to attack. The attack being ordered by the king of thieves. The king of thieves being the judge of his punishment if he failed. His favorite punishment being something Xander hoped to god he'd never have to face.

Fuck.

Irritated, he sighed and let his head fall back and hit the door that had caused all this trouble.

Turning back to his thieves, he stated two simple words.

"Free Keep."

**_XxX_**

She sped into the boy's room, throwing caution to the wind she threw herself on the bed. Ripping the covers back to be hopefully greeted by the face of her younger brother, her pride and joy, the bright spot in her life.

The bed was empty, the sheets unslept in.

She gasped, pushing herself away from the bed and tearing about the room. Looking everywhere for the little boy she had loved since his birth. The wardrobe, the adjoining playroom, under the bed…

After she was sure she'd checked everywhere twice she stood in the middle of the room, panting hard from the effort.

Her brother was not here, nor had he been here that night. She was sure he'd not been here for at least six hours as his sheets were cold.

Just as she was about to begin her search again the door opened once more. She drew herself up to full height, her head held high. Ready for anything but letting anyone see the level of fighting skills she had, if they underestimated her, she'd have a trick up her sleeve.

Well, she thought wryly fingering the lace skirt of her silk nightgown, so to speak anyway.

But it was only Scott. Scott, her best friend. Scott, her first love. Scott, the only one who understood her and treated her like the equal she demanded to be.

Only Scott, the kitchen boy who would never be good enough for her.

He stared at her for a second, taking in her shapely form before averting his gaze and clearing his throat.

"What are you doing in here Anna?"

She gaped at him, on the verge of tears. "Gray…where is mah brother? Where is Graydon?"

He stared deep into her eyes as if she had grown another head. "What are you talking about? He's in Germany with Master Kurt. You said he could go."

She stared into space, recalling him running to her, pouting cutely, begging for her approval.

In her panic she'd forgotten all about it. In light of her discovery her maternal instincts had taken hold again.

She sighed in a relief that was short lived as she recalled the reason she came bounding into his room at this time of night.

"Listen to meh Scott." She whispered furiously, jogging across the room to stand in front of him and cup his face in her hands. "Ya have ta get outta here, somethin's happenin'. Summin' big, and ya can't get caught in th' middle."

Scott looked confused, but said nothing.

She continued. "Go to mah room. There's a figure of a match girl on mah mantelpiece. Turn 't three-quarters to the left. Go through the fireplace, take the stairs. Take two lefts and a right, the door will be ahead of ya."

He gaped at her, speechless. Finally he managed the words: "Aren't you coming with me?"

She shook her head sadly. " Ah must beh here. Ah _must." _She added when he opened his mouth to argue. "Ah must warn the others. If 't were any ot'er house Ah woulda left, knowing my brother was safe. But 't is _this_ house; Ah'm tied to 't. Please, jus' go. Go now; leave before 't is too late. But always remember meh fondly Scott. Always remember meh as your equal. Ah-,"

But whatever her sentence was he would never know. The crash of rock colliding with glass and smashing it to pieces sounded throughout the room and shards of glass showered the wooden floor.

AnnaMarie gave Scott a slight push, but he held fast to her arm.

"Please." he begged. "Please. Come with me Anna. It doesn't have to end like this, it doesn't have to-,"

"Go!" She urged him, pushing the wooden door shut. "Ah will not run. Ah will not take the coward way ou'. Ah will stand firm, an' defend this house 't my last!"

And Scott could make no reply as he was shoved down out of the door. And Anna could make no other comment as the rest of the glass was forced from the frame and a thief leapt into the room.

**_XxX_**

Scott peered round the corner, seeing a thief there he quickly moved away. Running down the corridor to a door at the other end, just as two or three more thieves rounded a corner to his left.

Franticly, he dived for the door. Grasping the handle he threw it open and pelted down the hall, thieves hot on his heels.

Tearing into the room that was Anna's; he hurriedly slammed the door and bolted it. Stumbling over to the mantelpiece he searched feverishly for the ornament, aware that the thieves where throwing their shoulders against the doors.

At last he found it, it was carved out of wood and barley noticeable in the dark. Quickly, he calculated three-quarters the left and turned in into that direction.

The brick wall behind the fireplace moved back and slid across…

…Revealing three more thieves.

Scott cursed and made a leap for the window adjacent to the door. But that idea was shattered when the bolt finally broke and a horde of men swathed in black tumbled across the splintered wood into the room.

Realizing he was caught, Scott crashed around the room. Smashing ornaments and expensive looking perfume bottles, knocking candles over and shouting at the top of his voice before a heavy blunt instrument crashed over his head.

But his tirade worked, the house was warned.

**_XxX_**

AnnaMarie threw her weight against the man as she listened to Scott crash around. Knocking the man unconscious, she tore out the door, intent on rushing to his aid.

She hadn't got far when men clad in black ambushed her. Fighting her way free, she managed to acquire a long, metal pole from one of them.

She ran faster then she ever had before. Her lungs burned from the effort, her leg muscles screaming in agony. And she made it to her room only to find it empty.

It was trashed, a pig sty even, but empty.

She could not hold the cry of frustration that escaped her when she turned to see more men pouring into her room.

She held her own, but alas, it was not enough.

Eventually she was forced to stand between two thieves while others poured into her room. A massive man with long straggling, dirty blonde hair and evil blue eyes stood in front of her. Smirking.

"So." He growled, something about the raspy sound of his voice made Anna want to shiver, but she remained unmoving, breathing heavily.

"So." He said again, his hungry gaze running across her form, making her feel nauseous. "I can tell what _you _do here, so there's no need to ask that."

She felt sick at the gross way he had misinterpreted her job.

"Where is the Princess?"

She was taken aback by the question, _how could he not know when…?_

He spat at her feet. She screwed her brow in disgust and he asked the question again.

She glared at him, her stunning eyes unwavering. He took her chin in a vice-like grip, asking again.

In one quick movement, she had spat in his eye, her chest still heaving.

He cursed at her, and in a fluid motion struck her round the face, hard.

She shut her eyes tightly, grinding her teeth to relieve some pain. Her lip was cut, bleeding. Spitting blood, she turned to face him again.

He brought his face close to hers, his sickening breath playing across her face. "Where?"

"Fuck you!" She hissed into thedeadly quiet. " Ah ain't telling ya nothing ya piece o' shit!"

His face deadpanned and he rose his arm to strike again, but was stopped with a word.

"Victor."

A silhouette stood in the doorway, by the actions of the thieves he was a figure of power. Of respect.

He moved from the doorway, progressing toward them. Pushing past the huge man he gently tilted Anna's face up to the light from the hall so he could inspect it.

AnnaMarie recognized him; she had played with him at the age of four. But she had changed a lot since then, and she hoped to god Henri didn't realize who she was.

He didn't. Instead, he turned to one of the men and whispered to him in rapid French that Anna was too exhausted to understand.

But the man that was gripping her left arm leaned in and whispered softly. "Don' worry gal. Yah'll beh tahken care of. Mr. Lebeau'll mahke sure of it."

She was only half-conscious, no longer caring what they did with her, but she recognized the accent and mumbled: "Kentucky, right?"

She could here the man above her chuckle deeply. "Yea that's rihght. Name's Sam. When ya come bahck ta th' world o' the living look meh up gal. Look meh up."

_**xXx**_

There you go! Aren't I nice? 

**Review!**


	2. Shatter Star: Part 2

**_Disclaimer: _**Owny me none.

* * *

"…So pretty…"

"…Wonder if…"

"…Where she comes from?"

AnnaMarie's hearing fuzzed, like a broken or untuned radio. She caught only snatches of the conversation and kept her eyes tight shut while the rest of her senses cleared and she was able to asses her situation.

Her home had been broken into, by thieves no less. Though she was sure none of them had taken anything. She had thought they might, until that god-awful man had questioned her on the whereabouts of the princess.

Oh lord! The princess! And Gray, Kurt and Warren. What would her family think? Kurt would most likely never give up till her found her; Warren would delve into early depression and drag Graydon in it with him. And the princess! Good God, what on earth would Belle attempt to do to avenge her?

What would Joey do? Her future companion, her confidant, her betrothed. Would he grieve for his loss? They were close friends after all, and although no love was shared between them the arrangement was convenient, though Belle despised it heartily.

The thought of the Assassin princess drove all other things from her mind and caused her to worry for her again.

_Oh God_ _please don't let Belle think I'm dead, please don't let her try to avenge me._

"I wonder if she's kinky?" A lively voice with a Boston accent cut through Anna's thoughts like a knife.

"I shouldn't get your hopes up Sephy." A frosty voice replied. "You don't even know if she's going to wake up, let alone weather or not she likes you."

"Emma." A soft English accent chided. "Let Sephy dream, if she wants to believe white stripes is gay then let her."

"Just why are you calling her that Bets?" the first asked.

It was at that point Anna leapt from the table, seized the nearest person and held her in a hostage-like position while she pressed her hands to said person's temples.

"See!" The woman in Anna's grasp spoke triumphantly. "I told you she was kinky!"

AnnaMarie pulled a disgusted face and looked around. She was in a room lit by candles, a few yards away there was a heavy wooden door, and lining the walls was a row of dressing tables.

There where three other women in the room. The one she held hostage, a tall, willowy woman with a mane of purple hair and a scar across one of her shining blue eyes, and a curvy blonde lady seated at the dressing table nearest the door with eyes like chips of ice.

The one with purple hair chuckled. "Welcome to the world of the living white stripes."

Something about her sentence brought a memory to the surface.

…World of the living.

…When ya get bahck ta the world o' th' livin' look meh up gal, look meh up…

"Sam!" The word escaped her throat before she could stop it, it rung into the silence a reverberated around the stone walls. Unknowingly she let go of her hostage.

"I beg your pardon?" The blonde woman with the icy words asked. "Did you just say 'Sam'?"

Anna's hostage rolled her eyes. " Oh give it up Emma, the two of you haven't been going out in years. Stop being so jealous."

Emma's eye's narrowed into slits. But Anna wasn't watching. She was more preoccupied with gazing at the girls at length.

The purple haired girl was beautiful, scratch that, they all were. 'Sephy' had thick hair that hung in two braids and fell to her waist; Her eyes were a piercing silver gray that turned out to be her most stunning feature.

Emma was a confident seductress; anyone could see it by the sensual way she moved. But she held a dignified air that impressed, imposed, and dominated.

Betsy was a good girl gone bad, or a bad girl gone good, depended on what side you were on. She was a modal of perfection. An actress. Anyone could see that she could play any part you wanted, be it the innocent girl-next-door type, Or the enigmatic, bosky Rogue.

All in all, they were a ruthless kind of bunch.

Anna's kind of bunch.

She settled down, chatted and got to know them a little. And told them a little of her in return, like the fact that she was engaged to be married.

" I've never had a real long term relationship." Sephy sighed.

"Why?" Anna questioned, already liking Persephone the best for her good humor. "You got commitment problems or somethin'?"

"So my girlfriend says." She replied, then grinned. "My boyfriend denies it heartily though, bless him."

Anna laughed along with her as a knock sounded on the door. Betsy got up to answer it; a feral looking man with tanned skin and stormy gray eyes poked his head through.

" Ten minutes gals." He said in a gruff voice, chewing on the end of a cigar. " Henri's got some rich old fellah stoppin' over." Then his steely eyes fell on Anna, still clad only in her thin lace nightgown. He ran his impassive gaze across her form, an amused smirk lighting his lips. "Yer the newbie eh? Creed said ya was a looker."

Fire flashed in the deep pools of green. "How ah look has nothin' ta do wit' ya or anyone else, bastard."

The man's eyes widened. "Ya got a nerve kid, ain't no one ever told ya to show some respect for yer elders?"

"Ah'll give respect when it is earned, so far, you've done nothin' but tell meh of a guy named Creed whom ah've never seen in mah life before."

The gray eyes darkened. "Oh ya seen 'im kid, I tell ya true. Creed's the fucker who brought ya here. The one who knocked ya out. An' lemme tell ya kid, don' matter how much brass ya got, you'd much rather have me then 'im guardin' ya any day."

He turned to the others. "Ten minutes, not a second later. And for god's sake, give mouth over here somethin' half decent ta wear."

Betsy could not hide the grin that spread across her face as she shut the door behind him. She turned and delved into a chest of draws at the back of the room. Throwing Anna a dress she said: "He's right you know, the only reason we're still breathing without a load of unhappy memories of Creed is 'cause of Logan. I tell ya, the guys an animal."

"Yea, well. Tell ya true 'Logan' didn't look to human either."

The girls, Emma especially, chuckled and moved to help her get ready.

_**XxX**_

Oscar Rineheart was a powerful man in his sixties, with a headful of silver hair and a wizened expression. He appeared to be a kind, friendly old man who had lost his wife at an early age, and in all fairness he was…when you paid him enough.

He was one of the leaders of organized crime, known to the police department simply as 'bullet-tooth'.

Now he waddled up the stairs, his powerful muscles deceiving anyone into thinking that he was obese and could not contain his fat. The Lebeau's were always nice to him, he'd known then when he first started out as an underling and the King of Thieves took a liking to him. They treated him with the very best respect, and offered him anything he needed. _Anything._

He grinned; wondering if that curvy blonde named Leila was still there.

Reaching the heavy, brass-studded door, he leaned into the doorman saying: "Make sure my carriage is seen by no one and you'll be able to feed your family for years on end, the tip I'll give you." The doorman started, nodded enthusiastically, and moved away.

Oscar grinned as he was greeted by Mercy Lebeau with a smile and a kiss. Chatting amiably, she led him down a corridor to their right.

He knew where they were going.

So he smiled.

_**XxX**_

Anna was getting frustrated.

She'd asked _millions _of times, but none of the girls would answer her. It was always, 'Oh never mind that now, they'll be here any second' or ' Shut up gal or you'll be finished with this job before your started.'

Each time AnnaMarie replied hotly that she didn't care how late she'd be for work unless she knew what she was actually _doing._

At last it was over and the girls stepped back to admire their handiwork. She was dressed in Betsy dark green gown, with Sephy's being far to short in the leg (though the color suited her better) and Emma being way to busty (But Anna didn't mind that much, most of her wardrobe consisted of to much white for it to be natural for _anyone)_. Betsy was quite a bit taller (Almost half a head) but they'd all decided that it was better to have the long, flowing skirts dragging a little on the floor then have it half an inch to short and above the ankle, like Sephy's was.

She stood in front of them, the jade color of the material brining out her eyes and setting off her wild, flaming hair. At the back went down in a diamond shape all the way to her hips, leaving the cream skin of her hips and the curve of her spine visible. The front was far to low cut for it to be a respectful ladies dress, making her wonder if her new friends' job was what she had feared all along.

She would _not _be a concubine, she downright refused to.

The girls were tossing around the option of trying to tame her mane of curls when Logan knocked on the door again, coming to fetch them.

He whistled when he saw her. "Jesus." He murmured. "Lookin' like that 't'ain' no wonder where you'll end up."

He and Emma exchanged a knowing look.

They set off down the corridor until they came to the top of a flight of swirling metal stairs, leading down into another room. Peaking her head round the girls Anna could just make out firelight and shadows dancing on the wall, the sound of rich laughter floated up the stairs.

Emma pushing a fan into her hands brought her out of her spying act, the curvy blonde leaned forward and whispered. "I'll look out for you tonight, Logan asked me to anyway. Seems he's got a little soft spot for you. Make sure you use all of the fan signals, you know, close it if you want to speak to us etc. Flirt, but don't give yourself away, don't go anywhere until one of he Lebeau's say you can. And remember, _you're a hostess, nothing else!"_

Rogue was about to whisper furiously back that she was no one's hostess, that she'd go where she liked and do what she wanted. But Emma had already leaned toward Logan and he kissed her on the cheek then she disappeared down the flight of steps.

Rapidly, Betsy followed and Sephy moved behind Anna to give her a slight push. As with the other two, Logan leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. "It's for luck." He explained, then leaned in further so he was a breath away from her ear and breathed " You don't have to do anything you don't want do down there AnnaMarie."

Anna gasped and cast him a fearful look, to which he smiled with a twinkle in his eye. "How did you…?"

"Never mind now." He shot back when Sephy threw them a puzzled glance. "Just get down those stairs, give me a holler if you need anything."

Dazed, she nodded and began to float down the stairs as Sephy collected her kiss, she had worked out that she could just be silent and blend in, become part of the furniture, she could get through this night as calmly as possible.

How very wrong she was.

_**XxX**_

Remy Lebeau, the youngest prince of thieves had many titles. The king of hearts, The Shadow, The joker, Le Diable Blanc. He had a complicated mind, one able to work out the most puzzling factors. And everyone, excepting his brother, Henri, believed him to be a man of complicated tastes and exotic pleasures, surely his latest public fling with the Monroe girl had been proof enough of that?

He was however, an uncomplicated man in his leisure time. He liked his Bourbon cold, his home warm and his women willing. But most of all, he loved the cards on his side.

Not that they ever weren't. He had a gift for cards, ever since the age of three when he could hold them. He didn't get a chance to play much in his younger days, more preoccupied with getting other, less trivial things, like a roof over his head, water to drink and especially food.

But at eight, when he foolishly tried to pick the pocket of the king of the thieves, he had been adopted by Jean-Luc and learnt to play. It was then discovered that he was good at bluffing and being able to spot a bluff.

Scratch that, he was brilliant at it.

Now, at twenty-eight, he drank, smoked and gambled. Earned to title 'King Of Hearts' because of his endless, unaccountable row of flings and lived for the parties that his older brother threw.

The parties were a source of gossip for everyone. Every one had heard of the way one person was invited, taken to a room a gotten drunk. Then the oldest Lebeau would suggest a game of cards to which the guest, already bosky and delighted with the show of woman around him, foolishly agreed. It was then that Remy would proceed to rob them of their money, and the guest would leave with the companion of his choice, his pockets a lot lighter and his companion one by morning.

It occurred to Anna that she was at one of those parties now. And she hoped to god she wouldn't be the companion. Although, she mused, if the guest was that Auburn haired man with Emma in his lap, the one with the unusual eyes that refused to stop staring at her she just might be.

When she had first walked down the stairs all eyes had turned to her. Only a roaring fire lighted the room, as she had first suspected, and a few men sat in a sort of semi-circle. Despite that fact that there was only about five men in the room there was hardly any space to breathe. Not just because there was about fifty scantily clad women around, though that didn't help, also because the rooms windows were closed and the shutters outside bolted together, letting no air inside.

Because of the heat, AnnaMarie had excepted several drinks of fruit punch, that combined with the heady air, was beginning to lull her and fuzz her senses, making her head feel full and heavy on her shoulders. She had sat next to Henri and quietly chatted to him, seeing as he was the only man who did not hold his breath when she ventured downstairs, nor did he leer at her, or make unwelcome, dirty comments. In fact, he was just how she remembered him at thirteen even, polite and considerate. Unlike that atrocious brother of his, what was his name? Blast if she could remember, the heady atmosphere must have fogged her senses a little…

Anna felt a hand on her shoulder a turned to face Emma, who leaned toward her ear and whispered. "God damnit white stripes, didn't you see my fan signals? Remy wants to talk to you!"

Remy, that was it! The perverted little brother!

She looked at Emma through smoky eyes. "Who?"

Emma sighed, agitated and jerked her head toward the man she'd been sitting in the lap of. The one who refused to stop looking at her.

As she watched him he smirked and cocked his head, giving her a look that said 'Succumb-to-my-charms-and-come-to-my-room-tonight'. Narrowing her eyes to slits, Anna called to Emma and said. "Tell Mr. Lebeau that if he wants to talk to me, he can venture across the room and introduce himself in the proper manner. I'm afraid I'm far to interested in the conversation I am having with Henri to notice anyone else at this particular moment in time."

Emma's astonishing eyes went wide as Henri erupted in laughter, waving Emma away so she could deliver the message and he could see his brothers face.

Emma traveled back across the room to relay the message. He stared at he blankly for a minute, then started in shock. And lastly, a grin spread across his face as he gave Anna a toothy grin then raised her glass as if to solute her. AnnaMarie gave him a cold stare then turned back to Henri.

She was oblivious to the fact that Remy had just decided he'd share his bed with no other till he had lain between her legs.

_**XxX**_

Half the guests had gone before the cards were drawn out.

As they seated themselves around the table Anna lost sight of Henri, a quick inquiry told him he'd ventured upstairs to his wife and child. So Anna had had no choice but to seat herself on either Remy or Oscar's side.

Just as she was contemplating which she'd rather be with, Sephy came toward her, "Mr. Lebeau requests your presence by his side of the table Stripes."

Looking over Sephy's shoulder she caught sight of Remy regarding her, that hateful smirk plastered all over his tanned, handsome face.

Infuriated once more Anna turned her head back to Sephy, who was gazing at her with apologetic gray eyes. "Tell Mr. Lebeau." She started "That he is lucky I am so merry with drink to be so kind to him in saying only that I cannot join his side of the table for I have already promised my presence to Mr. Rineheart. Tell him though, I said I am sure he should not miss my aura for he has your own, yours and a hundred other women's."

Sephy struggled to contain her grin. "Okay." She said and walked back to her place directly beside Remy.

However after he was told her message he simply gave her a slow, very private smile. She raised a perfect eyebrow before plopping herself down on the seat to Mr. Rineheart's immediate right.

_**XxX**_

Mr. Rineheart, she decided, was either very bad at cards, a very stupid drunk, or simply very stupid.

She had an overwhelming feeling it was the latter one.

He was ridiculous at the game he played, dropping cards, throwing the decent ones away and being an all around idiot.

She felt so sorry for him that after the first five games, in which he lost a very sizeable sum, she decided to help him a little.

It started out as her simply coughing a little when he made a wrong move. He caught on to her method immediately. It then evolved to her whispering things such as 'wrong card' or ' Ace of spades'. Till at last it was at the stage where she was giving him instructions.

And the youngest Lebeau child watched her do it. Just sat there while she lost him game after game, that infuriating smirk fixed on his features.

They had been playing near an hour when Henri made his entrance known again. Shock mingled all over his features when he heard the games progress, a shared number of wins and losses between the players. Then he caught sight of Anna and grinned.

"M' dear lady." He said smoothly, his voice like silk "'f y' insist on helpin' so, why not play th' game by y'rself?"

"Ah woul' Henri." She replied deftly, "had Ah the money t' play."

"Y' don' need money _Chere._" She heard Remy speak for the first time. "Y' got odder t'ings t' bet"

She turned her head sharply. "Ah'd rather keep those thangs t' mahself thanks."

The men chuckled deeply. And Remy's gazed caught her own. He smiled privately, intimately. She raised an eyebrow but didn't turn away from the heat in his eyes, she couldn't.

Fire danced in his gaze, and the heat became primitive…and dangerous.

_**xXx**_

_**REVIEW ME!**_


	3. Shatter Star: Part 3

Hey y'all! Been yonks, I know, in fact I wouldn't be surprised if a few of you had forgotten this little piece of crappy literature (smiles cutely at IvyZoe) not that it would have been your fault, in fact, I fully take the blame, as I should, of course;).

But just to recap: Rogue is a maidservant who's home is broken into in the dead of night. The 'owners' of the house have all left, and one of them had taken her little brother, Graydon, to Germany. Rogue was captured and taken to the house of thieves and now she works under the Lebeau's.

Remy is Rogue's joint master so far, we don't know much about him apart from the fact that he is a world renowned ladies man and an infamous card shark and that he has the hots for 'AnnaMarie', who keeps knocking him back. No one in the house knows Rogue's name yet, apart from the enigmatic Wolverine.

**_Remember it yet? Confused? Then great, my work is done!_**

_**Shatter Star**_

_**Chapter 3**_

_**Rogue by nature…**_

AnnaMarie flopped down on one of the big comfy chairs that lined the room; exhausted she lay her head back and inquired to Sephy's disappearance.

"She's gone to get the other gowns." Was Betsy's formal reply as she tugged the long strands of shining hair into place. " For later."

Anna's stunning pools of jade snapped open wide. " Ya mean the night is not over?"

"Of course not." Emma snapped, pulling the clip from Betsy's newly styled hair and putting it in her own. " We have only breaked for pre-dinner drinks."

"Yea," added Sephy, bustling in the room in flurries of material. "All the other _inferior _gals will be here soon and I've managed to snatch you Lila's uniform, she won't know, she'll just think she's lost it again."

No sooner was she finished speaking then the heavy door sprung open and women of all ages bustled in.

Emma, already half changed shot Anna a meaningful look that was interpreted as, 'don't you dare argue because I'm not in the mood.'

Sighing, Anna faced the wall and began to strip.

_**XxX**_

Anna fidgeted and Betsy shot her an agitated look. The 'uniforms', were all identical except for color. Sephy's was a light airy pale blue. Betsy's was a dark dramatic purple; Emma's was a figure hugging gleaming white.

And what did Anna get stuck with?

Pink.

_PINK!_

What was Sephy thinking? Did Anna _look_ like a pink-dress-wearer?

NO!

Oh well, she'd have to make do, at least hers wasn't banana yellow like that Cecilia girls.

But pink! The dress itself was bad enough, with it's cleavage showing, slut-looking ways. Oh had her mother been able to see her now! That'd be a laugh in its highest forms!

For the first time since this whole mess started Anna was grateful her family wasn't around, most especially Warren, he'd kill himself laughing if he saw her in pink, she'd never live it down.

She fidgeted again, earning a stamp on the foot from Emma, whom she was standing behind. Couldn't this queue go any faster? All these dim-witted girls had to do was collect a card from Logan, along with a good luck kiss and look at the card to see who's name was on it.

At last Emma ventured into the room on the other side of the door, (after moaning loudly that the card thing was a fix and she _always_ got stuck with Sebastion Shaw), and Anna balanced the tray expertly with one hand as the other was held out to accept the card.

Seconds later she would too cry out that the cards were fixed when she saw the name upon it.

Remy Lebeau.

Her kiss collected, she steeled herself visibly and pushed the swinging door open with force. Not too late, however, to hear the deep chuckle of the Wolverine.

_**XxX**_

The dining room was beautiful; with tall marble pillars lining the walls, a great glass ceiling and chessboard floor. The only two colors were black and white and the effect was amazing.

But Anna, a woman who had seen many magnificent rooms before, was in awe for only a second, and even then the effect did not show on her face. This room, she realized, would be hell to clean and when it was cleaned the greenhouse effect the ceiling created would make it very difficult to even see straight from the glare of white.

Head held high, she made her way to her 'master' who sat on one end of the massive frosted glass table. Her eyes met with his and she realized that the cards were indeed fixed.

Eyes narrowed and giving him a glare that would send any man with an ounce of self-value running for cover in fear, she progressed toward him.

He watched her as she followed the other waitresses, removing the food from the simple silver tray, setting the tray on the floor beside his chair and then pouring the wine into a large, stone encrusted goblet.

Her hands shook as she completed her tasks, knowing that he watched her with an attentive, gleaming ruby eye.

He desired her, she knew that from the way he asked for her presence earlier this evening. But he was the sort of man that desired any female creature on two legs; one that wanted anything that lived.

She met men like him everyday in her line of work, most ended up dead. So why was she finding herself attracted to him? Why did she want to respond to him? And why was he making her want his touch, even from so far away?

"Y' are no' 'mpresed b' m' dining room _Chere?_" He asked suddenly, startling her.

She sat in the simple ebony chair to his immediate left, like all the other girls, before answering.

"Ah have seen many architectural wonders in mah lifetime mister Lebeau. An' your dining room, like th' rest o' your house, though pretty fails in comparison to the art of building ah have sometimes been witness to."

He chuckled, nodding into his food as he ate it. "S' y' sayin' it's pretty, but no' an architectural wonder?"

She nodded, noting how as she did his gaze slipped from her face. "Ah do confess, however, that had Ah the choice mah home would have much like ya own, wit' columns an' pillars and great corridors paneled with wood. A comfortable home, with enough extravagance t' awe an unseein' eye, but enough modesty to be called a home and not an exhibition."

The men around the table looked impressed by this small woman's knowledge and opinions on what was commonly known as a 'man's subject'. None so more than Remy however, who was gazing at her with increasing respect and a suspicious twinkle in his eye. The women around the table looked bored.

As the rest of the men expressed their own opinions Anna's attention wavered and was caught by a young girl, about five or six, peeking around the swinging door that led to the kitchens. A second figure emerged, a woman that appeared to be a little older then Anna, with ivory skin and friendly blue eyes. Shining strands of glistening red escaped the messy bun atop her head and flour was smeared across her cheeks.

The little, brown haired girl caught her eye and waved happily. Anna winked and the older girl smiled softly. A voice called out from behind them and they turned to look. Anna caught the words 'Jean' 'Katharine' and 'Pie' before the two disappeared from view again.

Turning back to the table she realized everyone was staring at her and that Sephy was attempting desperately to hide a giggle fit behind her hand.

"Sorry." She apologized with one last glance at the kitchen door. " Miles away for a second there."

The man sitting to the right of Emma, who Anna dubbed as Sebastion leered at her and repeated his question, would she marry to get such a home as this? Or would she be determined to build it herself?

She smiled slyly. "I wonder if that is a veiled attempt at a proposal sir?" laughter seeped across the room. "Though 't was a remarkable way of asking such a question, for now ah no not how t' answer ya. Clearly, if given the choice, Ah would like to build mah own, and finance it bah mah own means. But Ah do not believe that mah lifetime, nor the lifetime of mah children even, woul' allow meh any such means t'."

"Oh," Spoke up Mr. Rineheart (still recovering from the amount of liquor he had consumed earlier) "And pray tell, why do you not think that?"

She swept a streak of white back from her face and attempted to fasten it with the rest of her upswept, simple style. "Ya ask meh that even though ya are answering ya own question. Any profession ah could take up woul' never allow meh the money Ah'd need t' build mah own home. No matter what Ah do, the only way f' meh t' get that privilege is t' marry well. And as y' can imagine the chances of that are slim as they are, think of the hundreds of women that never see the sun beyond a kitchen window because we were born of the wrong sex and so we can not earn our own living. Every man to a certain extent believes a woman belongs to him, weather it's a maid, his wife, cook even his mother they believe they have possession over a person. But no man has a possession that is living and breathing. We are women, yes. Human being yes, we think and feel as you do. It's true, a woman is different from a man but that does not mean she is inferior."

"I suppose you think you are superior then?" hiccuped Rineheart again, narrowing his watery, beady eyes.

She shook her head softly; the sliver of hair that she had removed seconds before falling back to its place. " No not superior, but not inferior either. Jus' differen', like a different species o' the same animal. Like swallows and Pidgins."

Beside her, Remy watched her intently, leaning back in his chair and steeping his fingers. She turned and for the first time since she entered the dining room she met his eyes.

They burned into her own with an intensity that dazzled her; he seemed to desire her more every second and became almost overwhelmingly intrigued with her. With just one look Anna realized that tonight she had let her mouth run away with her once again, and not only that but also this time someone was wondering where she had gotten her women-like opinions and impeccably good language.

With a glance she realized that she had let her single mothers teachings lead her too far and that it would only be an amount of time before the pieces clicked into place for a man like Remy. Already she could see the cogs working in his incredibly intelligent brain.

"Tell me." He said softly, and the chatter that had begun to form hushed immediately at the sound. "Ms. Uh-,"

She chuckled. " You sir, are a very intelligent man, surely ya can come up with a better, more creative ploy t learn mah name and research mah backgroun' than a false question ya care not 'f Ah answer truthful?"

He smiled, "Y' ain' gonna give Remy 'n answer?"

She looked down coyly, all the while furious at herself for flirting with fire. "Oh yes," She replied softy, her voice like dry whiskey. "Remy will g't 'n answer, s'lon' as he asks real nice…"

Remy glanced down the table; all that were listening to the couple's conversation went back to their respective meals or women. He lent in, his voice as husky as her own, "Does Remy get t' know his _Chere's_ name?"

Her lips twisted of their own accord into a smile that was almost sensual…

Almost.

"No."

He blinked, shocked then lent back chuckling. The second third and forth courses came and went without another word directly between them, and Anna was asked for her opinion on many more topics, particularly how she felt on the pending war between the north and south.

"It is a ridiculous suggestion Mr. Fisk." She replied to the questionnaire. "In a war it is clear that we would lose. Ah have been up north many times, you of course live there, New York Ah'm guessing?"

At his nod she continued.

"Then you also see that the north's fire power outmatch are own in both quality _and _quantity. Atlanta especially is being complete…complete…"

"Cads?" Henry supplied.

"Yes thank ya. Complete cads. If we were to go to war, everything would beh pilfered."

And thus the conversation was ended. And they were all agreed that the war should not take place.

And with every word she spoke the gleam in Remy's eyes intensified. The suspicion aroused to an even greater extent, and the respect and…something else grew wilder, more uncontrollable then anything she had ever seen before.

_**XxX**_

_**It was technically meant to be longer then eight pages but you know how it is. I'm kinda stumped for ideas so if anyone wants to give us some pointers (: D) they'd be gladly appreciated. **_

_**Anywayz, I wanna get this up now and not next year, it's taken too long to get up as it is, what with the other two fics and all.**_

_**So umm Happy Halloween…In about 25 days:D**_

_**Wild**_


	4. Shatter Star: Part 4

Before I start rambling again, I'd like to say thanks to all of those who decided to give ideas, they were much liked and appreciated so don't be surprised if they pop up now and again. This chapter especially was built on an idea that was given by **_Dark Anmie love _**Lurv yaz buddy, you rock!

I also owe the dance floor scene (no it wasn't my idea…but I wrote it!) to **_WolvGambit Le Diable Blanc_** (Who also rocks). There are other ideas (such as a moonlit dinner) that I am attempting to work into the plot still, but I shall use them, you watch.

So to the review responses I'm still not sure we are allowed to do. Oh well, until someone outright come and tells me I can't do them I refuse to ignore my reviewers and they have questions and I want to answer. So :sticks out tongue like a five year old child:

**_Addtothenoise: _**Lol thought you might forget; though I only said that because IvyZoe told me she forgot about Home Of The Damned. Lmao, wowed, by eight pages? You have to be kidding, that's tiny!

**_IvyZoe: _**Ahhh, you'll have to wait and see won't you? No, I'm not going to tell you because I have all these secretive fics going and this is the only one people understand. I want to keep it from you because, as sad as it is, I like knowing what's going on whilst others try desperately to unmask my logic. Oh, the pink dress thing, should have realized you'd want to comment on that. I put her in pink because _everyone _puts her in green; it matches her eyes and all that. And I _hate _being predictable and cliché. Sorry, but I'm afraid everyone should have more than one color in his or her wardrobe. Besides, it made me giggle to picture her in pink.

**_Dark Anmie Love: _**Lmao! Only thing aroused, that was good. I'm four days from Halloween close enough to it to you? I used your idea, I thought it was good. So a Halloween party we shall have:winks:

**_EnchantedLight_**: Thanks!

**_Pyro Lady: _**Thanks for the idea, after you mentioned it I knew that's what I wanted to do. Thanks again.

**_Chica de Los Ojos café: _**Yup, like a razor is Remy, she thinks he's stupid, but he'll work things out and she'll be stuck in his debt. Mwhahahaha. Sorry, had a bit of an evil moment there.

**_RogueChere: _**Thanks, that's nice to hear because you're actually one of my favorite authors. But I'm still waiting for the second chapter of Caged Angels. I loved that. : D

**_Wrapped In Banana Foil: _**Thanks a bunch, praise is always appreciated!

**_WolvGambit Le Diable Blanc: _**Yep I took your idea too, but if you didn't want me to steal it you wouldn't have said it right? Yes I have to say it sounded incredibly sappy, but very good nonetheless.

**_Nettlez: _**Umm well it's hardly a quick update but, let's face it, I've took longer to update before right?

**_Inantiodromia: _**Thanks a bunch, here is your new chapter!

**_Gambit's Belle Rogue: _**I am planning on using two of your Ideas, the first, as I've already said, is the moonlit dinner. The other, I won't say. : P Yes it's true I am an evil bitch, but one with many Ideas in my head and a tendency to twist peoples words to my liking. I am planning to stop the story before the war takes place. I don't think I could handle a Scarlet O'Hara character. And I shall have to improve my writing skills drastically before I could take on the famine and degradation the south suffered after the war. No I'll leave that to the war writers, and content myself with deceit and Romance. Mostly Romance. : D.

**_Taste Of Fire: _**Thank you for your nice words and happy complements, I'm feeling the love!

**_Gabrielle Myka: _**Thank you!

**_Les723: _**Danke also!

Chapter 4

_**The Promenade**_

"I don' understand why y' kickin' up such a fuss bout dis Henri."

Remy put his feet up on the mahogany desk and crossed his ankles as his brother surveyed him from the window.

"I don' understand why y' _wan' _t' do dis Remington!"

The younger of the two grimaced. " Don' call me dat."

"Don' call y' by y' name?" A ghost of a smile flashed across Henri's face before he squashed it again. "Jus' please, please explain t' me why y' wanna do dis. Explain t' me so dat I have an inkling of how dat muscle in y' head works."

Remy sighed. "I t'ink dat-,"

"_Non_ Remy dats y' problem, y' don' t'ink." This statement was greeted with lots of eye rolling.

"How's Remy supposed t' explain 'f y' won' even let 'im talk?"

" _Desole petite frere._ Carry on."

"Dank y'. Remy t'ink dat she migh' b' someone o' nobility. Well mebbe not nobility but someone o' importance surely."

His brother scoffed. "Remy why can't y' jus' leave 'er alone. In de mont' she's been here y've done not'ing moan and complain abou' 'er. Always tryin' t' trip er up an' plottin' agains' 'er. B'cause o' y' she don' even wanna tell us 'er name!"

"Exactly!" Remy snapped, springing to his feet. "She won' tell us 'er name b'cause she's afraid we'll suspect her!"

"Y' _do_ suspect 'er!"

"Who's side y' on?"

"_Non_ yours."

"T'anks a bunch, but y' can' deny dat I only suspect 'neyone wit' good reason! T'ink bout it Henri, Y' heard her talk, she sure don' sound like any slave Remy ever heard before. 'er high opinions, 'er language, de way she carries 'erself screams de importance of a good upbringing!"

"She already explain' dat 'er owner wan'ed an educated slave!"

"An' y' believed dat? She was talkin' bout de Assassins, bout Julian's family, t'ink dey woul' wan' an educated slave!"

Henri sighed and pressed his fingers to his eyeballs. "I foun' dat part suspicious, but not entirely out of de ordinary. Dis is Julian's _family_, his aunt an' uncles kids, not Julian!"

"Fair enough, but wha' 'bout de nightdress she wore? Dat dere is somet'ing dat most defiantly didn' come ou' o' maidservant wages."

"Mebbe she had a rich secret admirer. Remy what are y' tryin' t' prove here? Even if y' were righ' an' she was someone wit' money, who would she be? No one lives in dat house but de t'ree princes, two of which are in Germany an'-,"

His voice trailed out as he took in Remy's raised eyebrow and smug smirk.

"Y' got t' b' kiddin' me."

"I kid y' not Oh great frere o' mine. Two o' de princes are in Germany, but de other was away dat night, 'member? Dats why we went den, coz we t'ought she'd b' by 'erself. Y' come back sayin' de princess weren't dere. But what 'f she was Henri, what 'f, unknowingly y'd packed 'er up an' brought 'er here under the guise o' a slave?"

Henri stared at his brother for a very long time, determined to discover if the younger Lebeau were sober or not. But he was, he was standing there with an expectant look on his face, as if waiting for Henri to realize his brilliance. However, Henri had more then one trick up his sleeve.

"Rogue has a streak in 'er hair."

Lean, well muscled shoulders shrugged "An'?"

"We played wit' AnnaMarie when we were boys Remy. I was especial' fond of de girl y' 'member? Well try as I might I don' remember no white streak in her hair."

But even as Henri finished his sentence he knew Remy had an excuse for the young princess's lack of exotic skunk-like hair.

"D'ya 'member when de parents died?"

Henri sank in his chair, fearful of where Remy was heading. "_Oui. _De carriage crashed-,"

"An' dey came here blamin' de t'ieves f'r. Now Remy been t'inkin'-,"

Henri scoffed and mumbled something which sounded like 'hope y' didn't hurt y'rself.'

Glaring, Remy continued. "Remy been t'inkin bout de last time he saw de _fille_, now m' memory's a li'l rusty seein' as Remy was only bout…ten. Correct m' 'f m' wrong bu' we saw 'er a li'l before Raven an' Charles's death. Wit' promise's t' come back an' see de new baby. Y' 'member she 'ad de kid jus' before she die? 'Coz dat was were dey was goin' de hospital. Graham or summin…"

Henri leaned back. "Graydon. De kid's name was Graydon, AnnaMarie got t' name him since de day he was born his parents died."

Remy waved it away; he hadn't known Anna's parents that well. "Whatever. De point is AnnaMarie was in de crash no?"

"I fail to see where you're going with this."

Remy leant forward and watched his brother skeptically. " I been doin' research on dis-,"

"- Translated 'I've been bullying Lapin to do research on dis.'"

Remy brushed that comment away with his hand. "One an' de same. If a person 's subjected t' a great amoun' 'f fear dere hair may prematurely age itse'f, sometimes goin' as far 's turning white…and stayin' dat color. Usually 't fades, bu' some'imes, in very rare cases. It'll stay like dat."

Remy now lent back in his chair, satisfied.

"Y' ain' g't proof dats how 't happened-,"

"-An' y' ain' g't proof 't didn' happen like tha'."

Henri sighed and rocked his chair back and forth. "Okay, but why 'ave y' come t' me? Wha' d' y' expect m' t' do?"

His younger brother smirked. "Don' y' worry y' pretty li'l head bout 't Henri. Remy will sort dis. Y' watch. All Remy wan's 's permission t' handle dis any way he chooses _d'accord_?"

Reluctantly, Henri nodded. "_Mais, _y' listen _Homme. _I like dat girl, an' I n't de only _un _neither, Merci got a li'l soft spot f'r de _fille_ an' I don' wanna see 'er hurt."

"Merci or Rogue?"

That comment caused the dead eye. "Which d' y' t'ink _frere_? I ain' too worried 'bout Merci, y' too scared t' try anyt'ing on her 'nyways."

Remy chuckled. "Don' worry Henri. De Rogue be in _bein_ hands. Very, _very bein_ hands."

Henri shook his head as he watched Remy back out the room, with worry etched all over his face he wondered what brain Remy had been thinking with, Rogue was an attractive woman.

Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, he fixed the now closed door with a frightful stare.

"_Deiu_, help us all, Remy's found a new _Femme_."

**_XxX_**

Remy grinned at Tessa as she skirted past him, carrying a tray filled with used breakfast plates, the remains of Remy's sister in law's breakfast in bed.

He stopped her by placing an affectionate hand on her arm and she gave him a look that clearly said 'don't-even-think-about-it-I'm-not-in-the-mood.'

He laughed at her mistrustful gaze. Sage was one of only five in the household who didn't harbor even a minor crush on him. The other three being Ororo (although her sister didn't mind a smile now and then), Merci, _Tante_ Mattie and the newest addition, Rogue.

He gave Tessa an award-winning smile and she perked an eyebrow, coaxing him to get to the point.

"Y' seen Rogue aroun'?"

"Oh yes." Replied she. "Many times in fact, right now I believe she is with that Charming Nephew of yours, she's bullying him into getting dressed, as only she can. But beware, Lady Merci isn't feeling well today."

He laughed as she fixed him with a penetrating gaze that was only amplified by her astonishing blues.

"I hope you don't intend to hit on her again." She observed. "I don't want to have to bandage your face up again."

He glared as she flounced off, balancing the tray perfectly on one hand. Shaking his head, he continued along the sunlit corridor to his brother's room.

He could hear woman laughing as he paused outside the oak door. A deep, husky voice spoke words he could not make out and a child's cry was heard.

He knocked briskly upon the door, calling out. "Merci? Y' decent?"

"As if y' care!" She yelled back as he rolled his eyes. The door opened and Rogue appeared she gave a curtsy and shooed him inside.

"Well? Wha' d' y' wan'?"

Remy looked toward the screen that blocked his view of his sister-in-law, evidently she was still in bed.

"Remy heard y' weren't feeling well."

"Oh don' panic, I'll b' fine b' dis evenin'. Don' wanna miss de party d' I?"

"Hopefully _non_." His gaze sought out Rogue, who was convincing four-year old Clive to wear a jacket.

He watched as she pouted "Please Clivey? Ya can take it off lahter. Just wear it for a li'l while an' then ya can come bake cakes li'l baby."

The miniature Henri glared at her and snatched the jacket from her hand. "Don' call Clive dat." He snapped, whilst trying to wrestle himself in the expensive article of clothing.

"Ya know what? Ya remind meh o' mah li'l brother."

Remy's ears tuned in. "What's 'is name _Chere_?"

Foe Rogue's part, she already suspected that Remy was onto her. A gleam set into her eyes as she replied. "Daniel."

He smirked.

"C'mon Clive." Said she. "Yoah daddy wanted t' see ya b'fore ya fishin' t'day. Say bye to momma."

The little boy vanished behind the screen so he could kiss his mother goodbye.

Remy's eyes met Rogue's and she raised an eyebrow, challenging him to question her about her brother a little more.

A smirk fixed itself on Remy's face and he opened his mouth, but before any words could come out a little blur if brown hair spun back around from the screen.

"_Tante _Roguey?"

She laughed. "_Oui_."

"Momma wants t' know 'f y' b' at de party. She says _Mon_ _Oncle _will take y', Won't y' Uncle Remy." 

Remy opened his mouth to reply when she stopped him by sayin "Thanks a bunch Merci but Ah prefer it when a man asks a lady himself."

Remy looked on, shocked as Rogue took his nephews hand and led him out the door.

"Remy y' fool wha' y' doin', go after her."

Remy rolled his yes. "T'anks a bunch Merci."

"Y' welcome _bebe_."

_**XxX**_

"_Chere_!"

Rogue turned her head, strands of auburn and white hair flying across her shoulder. She sighed. "Wha' is it now swamp rat Ah got to do a million thangs still."

"Correction, a million an' one since y' g't t' d' dis wit' m' now."

He tugged her into a nearby room and closed the door behind him, bolting it to ensure their privacy.

She rose an eyebrow. "Well?"

He looked her over, even in a simple dark brown dress and white apron he found her alluring. Her hair was fashioned in a simple upswept style and she carried a bunch of velvety red roses in her left hand.

Noticing his gaze she said: "Ororo sent meh t' fetch 'em, we were out down at the hall and needed 'em there so we could determine where t' set the punch bowl."

He nodded and turned his gaze back to her face. He tried to catch her eye, but she kept her gaze averted from his own, briefly he wondered why.

"Do y' t'ink Remy a useless lump Miss Rogue?"

She played with the flowers in her hands, the blushed, soft petals trailing against pale, even softer skin. "Ah have not known ya that long Mister Lebeau. Ah do not think ya anythin'. But." She added, a gleam in her eye. "Ah believe ya might hold a little of the spirit required t' beh a ne'er-do-well."

He laughed. "A ne'er-do-anything woul' b' more t' de point _Chere_."

She smiled. "Well if that is the case then at least ya appear ta beh comfortable an' Ah dare say happy with what ya are. That is th' most anyone coul' require from ya."

He gazed at her; this was the first thing close to a decent conversation he'd had with her. He had to tread slowly or he might scare her away. Best to be civil with his proposal then…

"Miss Rogue I know dat y' hold a remarkable amount of distaste f'r _moi_, An' b'cause o' dis I see no odder way t' ask other den beggin'. An' so, If dat 's what 't take dat 's what I shall do. Allow m' t' beg y' t' let m' take y' t' de promenade tonight."

His use of the first person and straight-forwardness startled her, so much so that she raised he head and came within direct contact upon his eyes. His fiery demon eyes. Eyes that entranced her so….

But she would not be swayed. "Why? Do ya have a wager ya are determined to win?"

He blinked, He hadn't thought of placing bets on this, but it wasn't that bad an idea...oh well, maybe later.

He blanched as though shocked. "_Non. _I ask y' b'cause y' are fairly isolated, and extremely downtrodden doing what y' are. A beauty like y' own should be shown off."

Her eyes narrowed. "So that is it, ya need a beauty on ya arm ta 'show off' ta all ya rich friends?"

He shook his head. Choosing his words carefully. "Non, I wish t' give y' de chance y' need t' shine. I said b'fore dat y' are downtrodden, an' I woul' correct tha'."

"Oh ya would, would ya?" Rogue answered, running her gaze up and down his body in a way that would make a lesser man fear for his motives. A very impressive woman, Remy decided; extraordinarily handsome in her own unique way and amazingly intelligent. Very pretty eyes, eyes that just might have seen too much in their time. Too much like an assassin princess would have to deal with. "Would ya also be truthful wit' meh?"

He threw himself in a nearby chair. "I am not'ing 'f no' truthful, I find lies so fatiguing t' recall when necessary."

"Ya insist ya always honest?"

He nodded.

"Well then, ya have just lied t' meh." She snapped, raising a threatening eyebrow.

Remy inwardly cursed, he'd walked right into that one. How in the world could he be honest if he made a living by stealing?

He rose from the wing-backed chair he had sat in. Walked toward her, giving her no choice but to stare up at him, unless of course, she wanted to prove she was weaker and move away…

She didn't, and now he was so close he could smell the soapy sent of her. It was amazingly feminine and fragile, and Remy wondered how it would smell mixed with his own powerfully masculine sent…

"Rogue, _Chere,_ we bot' g't lots a' t'ings t' d' t'day. S' will y' come o' _non_?"

She sighed heavily. He could see that her hair was falling from its style and he longed to let it down. He was so caught up in his fantasies he didn't realize she was speaking the affirmative to his question.

He smiled and reached for her hand, as he brought it to his lips electricity crackled between them and as he watched her eyes dilate he knew that she felt it too…

His eyes fogged over with lust and he considered leaning forward and taking her mouth within his own. He could tell from her suddenly rapid breathing that she would not deny him, that she wouldn't push him away…

Before he'd made up his mind there was a ferocious banging on the door and a muffled curse.

Rogue withdrew from him, giving him a half smile. As she sailed past her hair came lose and tumbled across her shoulders like a fountain and he caught a whiff of jasmine…

She left and Henri stared at her, then at Remy. Remy glared at him.

"Wha' d' y' wan'?"

Henri blinked. "Dis 's m' office."

Remy looked around and realized he was right. "Oh, _Je Suis Desole_."

Henri collapsed in the chair behind his desk. "What jus' happen'd?"

Remy sighed. "Y' jus' saved m' from makin' eider de wors' mistake o' m' life, or de most magical t'ing in de worl'."

Henri nodded. "Oh _Oui,_" He replied. "Den which is it?"

Remy frowned. "I ain' sure yet."

**_XxX_**

"Please tell me you're joking."

Rogue tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "Ah wish Ah were."

Ororo and Jean shared a look. Jean stood up and started pacing. "How…? I mean…Surely you can't possibly…?"

Ororo tugged Jean back into her chair. Then rose to check on the food in the oven. "What Jean means to ask child, is how on earth did he convince you to say yes? The two of you have been at locked horns ever since you've been here."

Rogue let her head fall in her hands. "Ah don' know. It was like, Ah opened mah mouth ta say no, when suddenly he was in front of meh an' Ah _wanted_ ta go with him. Without thinkin' Ah just said yes."

A soft, mocha colored hand reached out and touched her on the shoulder. Ororo tossed a strand of silver hair out of her serene face and it caught the firelight that illuminated the kitchen.

Rogue looked at her, then into the huge blue eyes of the redhead next to her. Jean had just opened her mouth when Kitty, the brown haired, blue eyed six-year-old kitchen girl, burst in the room.

"Roguey!" She gasped, her cornflower colored eyes glowing and as wide a saucers. " Logan, Sephy _and _Emma are coming down to see you!"

Rogue grimaced and massaged the sides of her head. "Great Kit-Cat."

No sooner were the words spoken then the aforementioned swung the doors open and stepped inside.

Emma looked shocked.

Sephy looked amused.

But Logan looked livid.

In unison the three girls sighed.

The war with the wolverine had begun once more.

**_XxX_**

She laughed at Sam's joke and Mr. Rineheart clapped him on the shoulder.

Out the corner of her eye Rogue could see Remy chatting with a petite blond that appeared to be throwing herself at him.

She felt a streak of jealousy run through her and it angered her. She was _not_ jealous.

An idea conjured itself up in her brain and she ran with it.

"Sam." She said sultrily, "Would ya like t' dance?"

The blonde southerner grinned and spoke the affirmative to her question. Together they made their way to the dance floor and Rogue was sure that they stayed far from the long table that was draped in black cloth.

The ballroom was magnificent. The tall pillars that lined the room had swirls of red and black velvet from the top too the bottom. Drapes of the same colors hung from the ceiling and the great chandelier that house over two hundred and fifty candles was lit to brilliance.

Bunches of red roses were placed around the place and rose petals littered the floor and the table of food and drink that stood at one end of the great hall.

Sam and Rogue chatted amiably as he swirled her around the dance floor in the swirls of silk that was such a dark green it was almost black. Betsy had fashioned her hair in an upswept-complicated style that varied braids and French plaits, but, to the stylist's dismay and Emma's great amusement, Anna's hair proved to wild and untamable to stay in such a style. And so the little bits of both white and auburn were falling around her face.

Great jeweled earrings dangled from her ears and a ruby and emerald bracelet hung from her delicate wrist. Her neck was bare.

With one final turn the Waltz was over. And both southerners were regretful for it.

The entire dance Anna felt his eyes on her, burning with frightening intensity. He had made her jealous, and she had done the same. Satisfied, she strode over to Betsy, Emma and Sephy with a smirk on her face.

"Oh look at you." Said the latter when she reached them. "What's got you all happy."

Anna bit her lip and chanced a glance over her shoulder, her eyes met red on black and she hurriedly looked away.

"Ah." Said Emma thoughtfully. "Now I see."

Anna gave her a mock glare and opened her mouth to respond when something caught her eye.

Or rather, _someone._

She gasped and clutched the closest person's, Betsy's, arm and pointed. "Who's tha' talking ta Logan?"

"He's nice isn't he!"

"Never mind that, is his name Scott?"

Betsy looked shocked. "You've met him?"

Anna almost started to hyperventilate. "Excuse meh."

She almost ran to them, and in a second she was at Logan's elbow. "Wolvie, can ya leave us possibly?"

Scott gaped at her, unable to say anything. Logan looked between the two and nodded. "Sure thing stripes, I beh over there if ya need me."

She gave him a grateful smile. "Thank ya."

Scott stared. "Princess-,"

"Shhh." She snapped. "Scott what are ya doin' here?"

"They brought me here." He replied. "What about you?"

"Ditto. Listen, ya can' call meh that here. Ya can' even call meh Anna. They think Ah'm a slave an' there ain' no tihme ta explain but Remy's on ta meh an' so here ah have ta beh normal. Just a normal girl called Rogue got it?"

"No."

"No? No what?"

"Your family thinks your dead and I won't hide you from them."

Her eyes narrowed and they began to argue until at last she convinced him and he nodded vigorously. Then something caught his eye over her shoulder.

"Oh." he breathed. "Who's that?"

She turned to see Jean, supporting a maid's outfit, strands of red hair escaping the cap atop her head. She smiled as the redhead waved affectionately at her.

"Tha's Jean." She whispered, waving back. "Whay don' ya go…chat."

"Yeah." He said to himself, still staring and moving toward her like a robot. "Why don't I go Chat?"

She giggled silently to herself as he walked away from her. The giggling abruptly stopped, however, when she felt a hand on her waist.

She gasped and looked ahead as Logan glared at the man behind her, his eye's seemly shooting sparks. But he didn't move this could be because of one of two reasons. 1. Ororo's hand on his arm seemed to be forbidding him to move. Or 2. The fact that the man behind her was his employer.

Remy breathed in the sent of her hair. "I hope dat earlier spectacle wit' Mr. Gunt'rie wasn't a ploy t' tease m'."

She turned her head so she could see his face. "An' if it was?"

He chuckled. "Den y' shoul' know dat 't worked like a charm."

She bit her lip to hide her smile as the opening bars of the tango sounded throughout the room. Wordlessly he took her hands and led her into the dance.

At the beginning silence prevailed, until…

"Ah believe we must have some conversation Mr. Lebeau."

He smiled. "Y' mean Remy ain' allowed t' jus' sit here an' admire y' _Belle_ face?" 

She looked at him squarely. "No."

He frowned "Why d' y' dislike Remy so?"

He spun her twice before pulling her body to him in a way that made her flush with anger.

"Because." She replied, her steps becoming more rapid and her movements more sensual as heat sizzled between them. "Ya treat women as if they are objects created only for ya enjoyment?"

"I c'n assure y' Miss. Rogue." He countered, matching every one of her steps with an even faster one of his. "Dey gets as much 'f n't more pleasure out of it den I do."

They progressed around the room. The dance getting more heated and faster with every step took. And yet the two were entranced with each other, quite unaware of the crowd they were attracting.

"Ha!" Cried she. "You sicken meh wit' ya one-sided accounts and lustful ways. You seduce a girl into what ya claim 's the 'night of their life', but how d' Ah know that ya aren't exaggeration' an' thay hated it?"

She twirled out and he pulled her back in. Chest to chest, nose to nose, eye to fiery eye…

"Give m' hal' a chance." He whispered the sound deep and low in his throat. "An' I'll show y' dat, dat ain' de case."

For a split second the dance stopped. Then he led her back into it with ease. She didn't answer to his statement, and instead became enraptured with his gaze. So even as the ending bars of music sounded and everyone in the room clapped and whistled as the two broke apart, red locked onto green and refused to let go.

Fire danced in his eyes as she curtsied as he bowed. Rogue felt herself becoming aware of every inch of him. The powerful muscles, the heady masculine sent of cigarettes and spices, but most of all those eyes…

The glowing eyes of a man who'd sold his soul to the devil.

For the rest of the night she couldn't get the look he gave her out of her head…

…And that was the way she liked it.

**_XxX_**

There you go! Possibly the longest chapter I've _ever _written. 18 pages, 4,892 words. Now surely that deserves a review…?


	5. Shatter Star: Part 5

**_Shatter Star_**

_**Part 5**_

AnnaMarie rolled her stunning green eyes and fastened the soft brownish cloth more firmly over her head. Satisfied, she turned to stare at her less then spectacular reflection in the simple mirror.

The source of her agitation, Scott, paced the floor behind her, talking a mile a minute about something she wasn't even listening to.

"I just don't understand why you want to do this I mean why would you want to do this it doesn't even register why you would when the chances of you getting caught are so high I mean…"

And so on and so forth.

Tucking an errant strand of silver hair behind her ear she sighed as Scott continued to hurt her ears with his profound opinion.

Again.

"What if someone sees you?"

Irritated, she looked at him innocently. "Why would a'yone see meh?"

He cocked his head to the side and looked at her pitifully. "You aren't exactly an easy person to hide. I mean look at you, you don't fit in a crowd, you stand out."

She glared "Ah've covered mah hair, what more d'ya want?"

"It's not just you hair, It's your whole demeanour, all of you. The way you carry yourself…things like that."

"Please boy!" She hissed. "Ah'm an _assassin_. It is mah _job _to go unnoticed. Who's gonna see meh anyway? The Duchess of Arizona? No. 1. Because there is no such Duchess. An' 2. because they don' care, they won't look twice at me, their just trying to stay alive."

"But-,"

Annoyed, Anna snatched up the old wicker basket she had found and sped out her bedroom door, flouncing down the stairs with Scott hot on her heels.

"Jesus Scott! F'r someone who wants meh t' go home ya sure do moan a lot."

Silence.

"Tha's bettah."

Five minutes later she tugged on the wrought-iron ring that was the front door handle. The heavy, Iron- studded door opened about an inch, and glorious, blistering sunlight pooled indoors…before it was shut out suddenly again by a large, tanned man's hand.

Biting her lip to stop the flow of insults Rogue looked at Scott again, frustrated. "What if Kurt's there?"

"Then he'll take me home, we'll declare war on the thieves and eve'yone goes home happy."

"I'm serious."

"So am Ah!"

Scott sighed. Looking utterly miserable and exhausted. "Can't you just go home? For my sake? For Graydon's?"

Though he spoke in low, hushed tones, Anna glanced around quickly before hissing. "No! These thieves killed mah mother and Charlie and ah'll prove 't!"

"Can't you just dedicate your time to finding your father again?"

"An' wha' leads do ah have without mah mother or Kurt's father aroun'?"

He sighed and tucked the escaped strand of hair back from her face. His rough, sun hardened hand brushed against her cheek and lingered there, she leant into his warmth and they stayed for some time like that.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt." He breathed.

She smiled gently. "I won't…if your there to protect meh. As is your word."

He gave a slight chuckle. "Then I might as well start now. C'mon, let's go to market."

She laughed and pulled the door open again, and, without interruption, the two walked in the blistering New Orleans heat.

In the doorway of a room leading off from the entrance hall, too far away to hear anything passed in a conversation by the door. Standing in just the right place so shadows hid his presence, was a Cajun thief who was glaring at the spot where the two friends had shared their intimate, touching moment.

His eyes burnt with such emotion, namely jealousy, before he stalked off without a sound. And in that instant he made a decision…

…He didn't ever want Rogue to come back, not if it meant she refused to be his.

A far more sinister source watched the youngest Lebeau child walk away from the top of the stairs. He raised a huge, dirty clawed hand and scratched his filthy chin.

"Well." He breathed. "…Waddaya know…"

_**XxxxxX**_

Remy pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. Damn Henry for getting sick! Why did his brother have such a weak immune system? If Henry wasn't sick, and Jean-Luc wasn't away, then Remy could have spent his time doing more important things then Guild & Customer meetings.

Like trying to work out Rogue…

Oh how Remy loathed this room. How he hated it. To anyone else it was comfy, spacious. Nicely furnished and warm.

To Remy it was the room that his whole future had been decided upon.

It was in this room Jean-Luc had declared the Guild union. It was in this room Mauris Bordeaux declared that Remy was to marry his only daughter.

Neither of the engaged was happy.

The shiny hardwood door across from him opened, reflecting light on the oak table that would divide the customer from the benefactor.

It was usual for both parties to have bodyguards, two or three really. But they were hardly needed and Remy, who did not doubt his skills as a fighter need only one.

The man nicknamed 'Wolverine'.

Originally there was Victor Creed as well, a great believer in violence. He was twice the size of Wolverine and Remy put together. He had long, matted blond hair and overlong nails that were substituted as claws in battle, and his evil blue eyes glinted from there frame in his skull.

A very long time ago, when Remy was only five, Logan disappeared to Germany on business soon after he had returned from there with Jean-Luc. No-one knew why, but whispers told of a lover in the chosen country, a married woman, who was bearing Wolverine's twins.

Apparently a settlement was made and Logan had one twin whilst his lover had the other, but Logan's child was sickly and had to be sent into medical care, where, at the age of five, she died from pneumonia.

Creed, a man with a dislike for Logan, made an extremely inappropriate comment about the child during Logan's grief.

That night he had nearly been beat to death.

And although Logan denied the accusation, the two refused to be in the same room as each other. And thus, Remy chose his favourite, Wolverine, for a bodyguard.

Wilson Fisk, however, took the liberty of having four very powerful men at his disposal, each eyed Logan up and the first made a comment to his friend, who guffawed heartily.

Logan looked at Remy.

Remy looked at Logan.

A slight smile turned up at the corners of Logan's mouth and both had to look away before they laughed.

The Kingpin eased himself into the comfortable armchair across from Remy and played with an elegant lily brought in by himself.

"_M'seiu_ Fisk." Remy inclined his head slightly, Fisk did the same. "I believe y' wish t' talk 'f one o' m' Servants?"

"Yes," spoke Fisk, his breath above a whisper. "I find I think of her most often, you know. She haunts me. I have spoken with your father and we have come to a…agreement."

"_D'accord."_ Remy said slowly, slightly puzzled. "I will b' pleased to han' her over t' y'. Which one d'ya wan'?"

Fisk's darkly blue eyes sparked. "Rogue."

At the instant her name was mentioned, Remy had to choke down the urge to strangle Fisk.

So, apparently, did Logan.

He stood up abruptly the instant the name was mentioned, his grey eyes shooting venomous sparks at Fisk, who had an amused expression on his face. The chair in which he sat flew across the room and took a chip out of the hardwood floor.

"You can't have her." He hissed. "I won't let you."

Fisk cocked his head at Logan, His eyes glinting evilly. "I'm sorry." He breathed, "Does she belong to you?"

"Logan." Remy said softly. "Sit down."

Ignoring his earlier chair, Logan began to pace the room shooting evil looks at both Remy and Wilson.

"Now." The thief spoke, trying to restore order. " Wha' 'xactly did y' say t' _Mon Pere?"_

Fisk shrugged. "I told him she was wild, untamed, and that you were doing nothing to restore order. I believe I can…fix that."

Logan growled and Remy felt his mutinous fists clench of their own accord. "Oh yes." He said through his clenched smile. "'Ow so?"

"I had a horse like her one. It too thought it was above its station. It too just needed to be…broken."

Bile rose in the Cajun's throat. "Well A'tually I t'ink we is getting' t'rough t' her. So t'anks f'r y' concern _mais_ It's no' needed."

Fisk smiled privately. "I'll give you till…tomorrow… to break her. No more time after that. I'll pay you and then she will be mine. Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes either. I will question every slave, including her. I will not be denied."

Picking up his jewelled stick, he squeezed through the door, and strode away.

Remy sighed again.

_Oh Chere _He thought, burying his face in his hands _Don't come back tonight, not if you know what's good for you._

_**XxxxxX**_

Rogue grinned. She couldn't help it. The market was so alive with activy and excitement. The happy children milled around her with their mothers that spoke in excited French of the town's gossip.

The characteristic rundown buildings and cobbled streets filled with people of every age. Some were black slaves, sent for food or rich cloth. Some were aristocrats, showing their kin around the city. And some were 'worthless' beggars, desperate to stay alive.

A man by a pottery stall caught Rogues eye. At first she thought it was Joseph and tried to duck out of sight. But though he was younger then Joseph, the too looked so alike they could be brothers. The same sleek silver hair, the same long, straight sharp nose. Identical, piercing, smiling blue eyes.

Her mind flew to Wanda, whose astonishing eyes were almost exact. Maybe he was that cousin she always spoke of.

Turning to check Scott was still behind her she looked back to see…

Nothing but air.

He was gone.

Frustrated, she pushed through the milling crowds to a fruit and vegetable stall near an alleyway.

At first she almost missed the little boy. He was so dirty that his hair matted together with grease. His thin shirt and shorts was so filthy he bended into the wall behind him.

She blinked as his huge brown eyes stared wistfully at the food stall. And her heart sank. Smiling at him, she brought three apples. Tossing one to Scott, who caught it deftly, she ducked into the alley.

Frightened, the boy made to run from her, but at her gentle smile he stopped and smiled sheepishly back. Chuckling, she knelt to his height and held out the apple. Skittishly, the small child reached up and took it from her, giving her a wide, toothless smile.

A panicked cry behind her sounded, and a freakishly thin woman pushed past Anna and scooped up the little boy in her arms, kissing him on the forehead over and over.

A second figure, starkly different from the first walked in behind her, his dark blue cloak swished behind him and revealed his fashionable clothes. His brown boots squeak with apparent newness and an evil looking horse whip was curled in his hand.

Anna felt her breath catch. The boy and his mother were slaves. This man was their owner.

The mother and child cowered as the child attempted to hide his given fruit from his approaching master.

"So." The man hissed in French, a language in which she was fluent. "You have found the worthless brat. Hold him."

The mother sobbed and hid her child, who had begun to cry. The man sighed in expiration and pushed her roughly out the way, where she hit her head on the alley wall.

Reaching forward, the man's chubby fingers clenched the small child's forearm, and he gasped in pain, dropping the apple.

Piggy, watery eyes narrowed, "Thief." He wheezed, "You shall have two lashes payment."

The boy gave a wailing cry and Anna, ignoring Scott's plea, stepped in.

"The boy's no thief, mah lord." She spat disdainfully in his mother tongue. "Ah gave him th' fruit."

He turned to her. "You are not my concern."

"Ah am wh'n ya attempt t' punish a small chil' f'r a crime he didn' commit."

He rose to his full height, "So I shall not punish him for thievery, he still has one lash needed for running away."

"If ya didn't lash h'm at all mebbe he woul' stay."

"Nevertheless a law has been broken and I will lash someone for it."

Anna looked at the child's huge brown eyes as he was pinned to the floor. Then to the child's mother who was unconscious and bleeding from the head. And finally, to Scott, who was shaking his head at her, aware of her thoughts.

A crowd had milled around the scene, and a woman spoke to her friend of how the child didn't appear to be able to take the lash that was to be immediately given.

"Wait." She raised her voice as the evil leather whip was drawn above his head. "Lash meh instead."

"What?" He snapped, impatient.

"Ya wanna lash someone, Lash meh."

He gasped, unbelieving. And the surrounding crowd began to mutter.

"I will not be responsible for your master's anger at finding his slave with a lash he didn't give."

A quick lie… "Ah'm free."

More twittering. And the huge man's lip curled up in distaste. "Very well."

The small boy was set free, and he dashed to his mother and began to very sweetly mop her brow with the end of his dirty rag shirt.

The men that recently had him pinned moved forward to hold her, but she shook them off. "Ah'm goin' nowhere."

She stood proud, and braced herself for the pain. At the corner of her eyes she saw Scott wince then turn away. Turn away in the direction of…

….Of a man with silver hair and piercing blue eyes!

But that wasn't the worst part; behind him were two very large figures.

Piotr Rasputin and Hank McCoy, both hired help of her half brother Kurt, were watching with a mix of alarm and interest on their faces.

Too intent with their gaze, she didn't see the raise of the whip.

But she heard the crack of it's decent.

And felt the excruciating pain as it came in contact with its target.

Mind fogged, Anna clasped her left shoulder, the fabric of her clock and dress stained dark with blood that she was fast losing.

She swayed on her feet, then fell backward, only to be caught be McCoy on her way down.

His warm blue eyes smiled at her. "Princess AnnaMarie…"

"Princess…"

The whip fell from the evil man's hand and he dropped to his knees.

"Forgive me." He wept. "I did not recognise you."

"Very well." She said between great, panting breaths. "But the child and his mother are to be set free. Understand?"

He nodded several times in rapid succession. "I will care for them, provide for them. I swear."

She nodded, and gazed at the mother and child whose lives she had changed. The mother was telling her child over and over how she had worried for him. Her heart wrenched, and then looked back up at Hank.

"Henri." She whispered, "I have a message for my brother I need you too deliver."

_**XxxxxxX**_

And that's all folks!


	6. Shatter Star: Part 6

__

_**Shatter star**_

Scott had to kick the heavy door to get it open. Had to struggle with his muscular arms filled with the assassin princess to the drawing room off the hall and yell for help at the top of his lungs.

But it was in vain, apparently, as no-one was home.

But what more could he do? He was not a doctor, but he knew for a fact that he couldn't leave his young friend, whose once seemingly endless energy was disappearing just as fast as the blood from her wound.

Gently, so not to harm her, he set the tall, fast paling beauty down on a chintz loveseat and sent her a panicked glance before running to the door and calling out for help again.

_If only the darn woman had had the sense to let him carry her all the way back. _He seethed, _maybe then she could have preserved some energy to tell him what to do now._

Unfortunately, she had not. She was far too stubborn for that. Instead, she'd insisted on walking by herself until she'd finally collapsed from loss of blood. They'd been on the outskirts of town by the time she'd started to sway as though drunk and fall. But not once had she complained of pain. Never once did she ask for help.

He wished she had.

So what did he do? He had little to nothing of a healer's experience. Could do nothing to help her. And in his state of panic he wasn't thinking straight enough to find someone to help.

Indeed all he could do was carrying on yelling, which now seemed pointless as it was obvious no-one was here. Anna's beautiful face was growing whiter and whiter and unless he made some sort of reasonably smart move she was going to die in front of him.

The ruby liquid he'd done his best to suppress was soaking into the loveseat's fabric now. It had completely seeped into the once-brown headscarf he'd wrapped tightly round her shoulders so that the colour was now indecipherable.

And then the door to his left creaked slowly open, and a tall, lean, attractive man carrying a snifter of brandy in one hand and a bottle of brandy in the other entered the scene. Swaying slightly on his feet.

_**XxxxxX**_

Whatever Remy was expecting to find on the other side of that door, it wasn't the scene that graced his delicate eyes.

He was only slightly drunk, and intended on getting much drunker before the night was done. In fact, he was intending to get so drunk that all thoughts of Auburn-haired temptresses with sparkling green eyes were no longer in his thoughts.

But here he was. Watching Scott trying to explain why was so incredibly frenzied. And then suddenly he noticed something.

Rogue was asleep on the loveseat.

He almost laughed at the audacity of it. Sleeping when she was supposed to be working? What in heavens name was the world coming to.

But despite himself he began to admire her features again. The curve of cheek, the sweep of her lashes, the pale column of her neck…

Her dark glossy, sleek curls spilled out down the side of the expensive chair. And he began to notice other things.

Like the fact that her breathing was oh-so-very shallow…

…Or the fact that she was extraordinarily pale and still. Somehow he'd imagined her to fidget, maybe even talk in her sleep…

…And by the time his keen gaze caught sight of the of the sticky dark liquid seeping across her shoulder, all thoughts of a night spent with alcohol and pretty girls flittered away…

…And all his thoughts were on Rogue.

_**XxxxxX**_

In a second he was by her side, smoothing her hair back from her face. She stirred slightly and he felt an overwhelming rush of misplaced guilt.

Why had he wished that she not come back? What had he done? If she died, how was he supposed to cope with the fact that he'd lost the only woman who interested him?

He murmured an apology under his breath over and over again, and then to his immense surprise, she opened her eyes.

And he was lost in them…

She gave a weak, half-hearted smile and tried to speak, but she had nothing to say. She was so weak she could only mouth the words 'I'm sorry' before her shining eyes were secured beneath lashes once more.

Steely determination, filtered in his veins as he swore his second pledge for the day, one that was quite opposite from the first.

No-one was taking her from him. He'd fight anyone who tried. **Fisk would not have her**.

And neither would the iron fist of death sweep her life from him…

…not yet.

_**XxxxxX**_

He swung round to face the panic-stricken Scott before gathering Rouge up into his arms. She curled against him, seeking the warmth of his embrace.

"Y' 'ave t' get mon _Tante,_"He snapped at Scott without skipping a beat. "She c'n help. Her 'n' Merci left a li'l over half hour ago. Dey went in de direction of de church."

Scott stood, staring blankly, clearly shocked.

"RUN MAN!" Remy yelled, patience finally losing him. "I'll look after 'er. Go!"

Scott jerked from his shell shocked state and ran as fast as possible to find Remy's aunt.

Remy, for his part was already halfway up the first flight of stairs. At the top he paused. Rogue's room was all the way at the top of the building, a fair distance for his aunt to travel in a short amount of time. Quickly making a decision, Remy sped past the door that concealed the second flight and turned left into a luxuriously furnished bedroom.

His Room.

He made short work of laying her on the silken sheets and ringing the bell for the kitchen girl.

The pretty young girl, Kitty, gasped as soon as she entered the room, jumping on the bed next to Rogue and cooing soothing words to her whilst sweeping her hair room her damp face.

Then abruptly, she turned and glared at Remy.

"What have you done to my best friend you big bully!"

Taken aback at the six year old girls fierce determination Remy shooed her from the bed, and requested warm salt water and a cloth, plus a few bandages, promising to have the situation explained when she came back.

As kitty sped from the room Remy unclasped the dark cloak and lifted Rogue slightly so he could slide it from underneath her.

Kitty re-entered then, bursting in a flurry of bandages and cloths. Upon her arrival she was sent downstairs to await Scott and Mattie, and direct them to his room to assist.

Unsure now of what to do, Remy swiftly untangled the twisted headscarf to reveal the deep cut through the soft brown fabric of her dress, and into the even softer silken flesh.

And now what? He couldn't get an estimation of how deep the cut was unless he removed her dress…

…And if he did that he didn't think he could rely on his self control.

"S' here's the predicament." A soft voice, slightly slurred, breathed from the bed. "Ah ain' got th' energy t' do mah own bandages, an' Ah'll rot in hell before Ah trust y' wit' dem, so wha' do we do?"

Remy turned his dark head swiftly to face her. She smiled sleepily up at him. She was pale, her words were slurred and she just kept getting weaker…But she was awake.

In an unconscious action he drew close to her and took her hand. "Hey." He breathed. "Welcome back to De Land of de living, however long y' gon' b' here."

She gave a weak laugh, twisted her hand so their fingers entwined. "With views lihke this, Ah think Ah may be persuaded t' stick aroun'."

He smirked, a comeback already on the tip of his tongue.

And then she wet her lips.

The action stopped him dead in his tracks. His eyes bugged out his head, and he found himself leaning closer, desperate to taste her, to touch her. Her eyelids dropped.

A whisper away, he froze.

What did he think he was doing?

This woman was injured for no apparent reason. She was an enigma of secrets and lies. She was about to be taken from him by the 'Kingpin' of crime. She could be his fiancée's _cousin._ And added to that…

…She was so beautiful…

Below him, he saw her eyes flicker open, noticed she had partially raised herself from the bed to greet him in his pursuit of her mouth. She let out a breath she probably didn't realize she was holdingand began to sink back to the mattress.

Her breath fluttered like butterfly kisses across his jaw. Clearly she was furious at herself for almost _welcoming _him to kiss her, and he was furious he hadn't.

And then he recognised an emotion in her eyes…

…disappointment.

He'd never let a woman down before, and the hell was he going to start now.

Her fingers were still looped with his and he drew their entwined hands to rest beside her head on the pillow. He stretched out next to her; he'd get one kiss before this day was done.

Her defiance was returning, he could see it growing in her eyes. Then she began to speak.

"If you think you have any business-,"

She was cut off suddenly by the tender kiss he placed below her ear; she drew a quick breath, and unknowingly bared more of her neck to him.

He grinned into her neck, nuzzling his nose into the soft column of her throat and traced a trail of bites and lick that drew pleasurable sounds from her, till at last he placed a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

She arched her back in anticipation, and at last, they shared their first kiss.

She was soft and warm, smelling of soap and jasmine, with his free hand he laced his fingers into her sleek, glossy hair, which felt like water underneath his rough hands.

Anna was in complete shock, it was just a little kiss, he was barely touching her, and yet she felt like there was an explosion in her senses. She gasped, and he took the invitation to probe her mouth with his tongue.

His sent was of spices and the alcohol he'd previously consumed, and something else, something so undeniably male it made her toes curl with pleasure. She moaned and he sucked in a breath with a hiss. His hands began to travel, spreading wildfire, as did hers, lower…lower…

Then she let out a satisfied, completed sigh, and drifted off to sleep.

He cupped her sleeping face and brushed his thumb across her full, pouting top lip, and he smiled.

"I t'ink y' exhausted 'er enough now boy" said a soft voice from the doorway. "s' time t' go."

Remy nodded, not taking his gaze from Rogues face. He stood and as he passed his aunt whispered "Don' let anyt'ing happen t' her Tante. M' relyin' on y'."

And, as swiftly as he'd come, he exited the room.

_**xXXXXx**_

The End.

Lol, just joshin', got a while to go yet, but we all love reviews, makes updates faster. No reveiw responses yet because i'm having trouble withh my account. But ye will get 'em. I promise.;) ;)


	7. Shatter Star: Part 7

**_A.N: _**Okay before I get started, it appears I have a quote or two that I need to disown before I get sued. I keep forgetting you see. The first was of course the "Ah believe we must have some conversation Mr. Lebeau" in chapter 4 - obviously I had only substituted "Mr. Darcy" for Mr. Lebeau, as the quote came from pride and prejudice.

The second quote, clearly less known were the words "I had a horse like her once, it too merely needed to be broken" Is a line from the film "Ever After". Good film.

Also, a shout out to all my anonymous reviewers that I can't reply to, in particular **_Doesn'tMatter_** for her hints on the spelling and grammer, mainly because I agree, it does get off putting.

Right then I think that's about it, on with the show!

_**Shatter Star**_

_**Chapter 7**_

"Are y' completely out o' y' senses!"

Remy sighed and buried his head in his hands, he knew his announcement would have this reaction, and he knew that right now, it was the last thing he wanted to face. Why didn't they understand? Surely they must realize it was his only choice?

He looked up at the rapidly pacing Mercy, then into the dark eyes of his still silent brother.

He knew instinctively that Henri could see why he was doing this. Knew that Henri had already figured out what the Kingpin wanted – what Remy was going to refuse him. Knew too that his brother understood, but that didn't mean the older Cajun wouldn't fight him – it just meant he had more subtle ways of showing his fury then his ranting wife.

"F'r god's sake Remy!" She fumed again, tossing a lock of sugar brown hair out of her eyes. "Y' must o' drunk y'self stupid. Y' can' be t'inkin' clearly!"

"_Non_ Mercy." He replied hotly. "Dis be de first time I've been t'inkin clearly in a long time."

She scoffed and continued to pace, throwing evil glares at the younger man. "Jus' what does Fisk wan' anyhow?"

Remy sent a pleading glance to Henri, but his brother was already on his feet, ushering his wife out the door amid heated protesting.

Finally, the LeBeau brothers were left alone Henri surveyed the crumpled, half drunk figure across from him.

"Y' realize what y' doin' don' y'?"

Silently, Remy nodded. But Henri explained anyway.

"Fisk can challenge y'." He predicted. "Without good cause f'r y' refusal de treaty can be broken – an' I don' t'ink y' interest in de same girl as him qualifies as a good reason."

He breathed a sigh massaged his temples. "De guilds coul' go t' war. We coul' lose everyt'in'. Even her. And wid de t'reat o' de assassins…" he shook his head.

"I can' let 'im have her Henri." He said quietly.

"Jus' t'ink 'bout what y' be doin _mon frere_, I can' ask f'r more den dat. God knows I'd do de same 'f it were Mercy, only…T'ink bout what' y' doin'…'s one woman wort' all o' dis?"

Remy nodded, stood and headed for the door.

In the hall, Mercy heard his approach from her listening position. Quickly as she could she clutched the crystal glass in her slender fingers and gathered the skirts of her full royal blue dress, speeding down the hall and disappearing round a corner before the oak door opened.

_**XxxxX**_

She moaned softly as she stirred. She was having the most wonderful dream – a dream of soft caresses and heated kisses…she was hurt, and Joseph...

A puzzled frown marred her features. Joseph? No that wasn't right, that couldn't be right…but it had to be, there was no one else…

…was there?

Suddenly aware of discomfort across her left shoulder, she flexed it methodically. Yes there was something there, something tightly bound and annoying her greatly. Casually, she lifted her hand to brush this new gauzy material…

Only to have her hand knocked away and a husky masculine voice chastise her.

"Don' touch it."

She froze, eyes snapping open and breath escaping her.

The man was at the foot of her bed, face half in shadow, and she felt an uncontrollable rage – laced with undeniable attraction – toward him. What on earth was he doing?

"Whay are ya in ma room?"

A humourless smirk twisted the lips of the stranger. "_Chere_, dis be _my_ room."

She looked around and realized with a start that her surroundings were indeed different. In fact, she concluded, this was not her home at all.

Then it all came back, the raid, the mistake, the ball, the child, the whip…

…And that infuriating man…

…not to mention his oh-so-sweet kisses…

Jerkily, she sat up, wincing as sunlight flashed at her from a crack in the heavy drapes. Ignoring Gambit's presence for the minute, she looked down to inspect the wound. It didn't hurt, but it appeared still recent. She pushed to fingers against it. A faint sting, nothing more, so she was surprised to see the seeping of blood stain the white red.

A sound of disapproval. "I jus' changed dose."

She jumped as the voice sounded from right behind her, and spun when he lit a gas lamp, illuminating his darkly irresistible features.

As he shook the remainder of the flame from the match he took a look at her. The colour had returned to her face, making her appear almost luminous. The cherry pink of her lips appeared wet as sparks of life danced in her eyes.

She felt her skin burn when he looked across her, and suddenly became very aware that she was in nothing but a nightdress. Fire danced in her eyes as she considered a thought.

"Did ya…?"

"_Non_," He replied immediately as though anticipating her question. "_Mon Tante_ did."

"Then wha' were y doin' in mah room?"

He gave her a sharp look as though she'd accused him of something. Then sat beside her soaking a cloth in a grey-green substance that lay in a little bowl beside her bed. "_My_ room _Chere_ 'member? But 'f y' 'ave t' know, Remy was watchin' for fever." He replied, gracefully unrolling a ball of gauzy bandage.

He gave a cough that didn't sound entirely genuine and nodded toward the tie-up neckline of her nightgown. "'F y' don' mind…"

Jaded eyes narrowed. "Ya are kiddin' right?"

He gave her a wolfish grin. "'friad not _Mignonne_. Dat wound needs dressin' an' dere ain' no one else t' do 't."

She levelled him with a gaze that would have made a lesser man fear for his motives. "I don' believe ya."

He merely raised an eyebrow and waited.

She heaved a chesty sigh and began to slowly undo the lace-up top. But before she pulled the shoulder down to bear the bandage she hesitated, knowing he watched her with burning eyes.

"Y' scared o' me _Chere_?" He breathed.

She shook her head no and swallowed.

"Good, y' needn' be, I like my women a lot more willin' – not t' mention more experienced."

She supposed his nonchalant should have reassured her, soothed her even. But instead his refusal to have any compassion for her made her feel somehow…inadequate.

Slowly, very slowly, she slid the soft fabric across her shoulders, showing off tanned skin that disappeared beneath a bulky white bandage.

She didn't see him clenching his hands to fists to keep from touching her, or swallowing to keep the desire under control.

Swiftly, he reached out to her, brushing fingertips across the expanse of smooth, bronzed skin.

He breathed in deeply, seeing the rise of her chest as she did the same. Delicately, with dancing fingers, he removed the bandage and began to wash it with his aunt's herb concoction. Silence remained throughout his chores, as neither dared to run the risk of speech.

Within minutes, it was over, his warm hands left her shoulder and he began to pack away. But he did not move from the bed.

"Remy-,"

She caught a glimpse of an unmistakable shiver that he attempted to hide when she spoke his name. She was also startled to see his hands trembling with terribly concealed desire as he scooped up the bloody bandages.

She laid a hand on his shoulder, shocked by her completely brazen actions. Wondering if she was dying and this was a test to see if she'd give into sin.

She started to wonder if she cared.

Somehow he ended up inches from her, his lips a hairs breadth from hers, his breath playing across the skin of her neck. She was trapped between his arms – buts she didn't care she just wished he'd hurry up and touched her with those oh-so-satisfying lips…

So what was taking so long? Why was she still waiting?

She opened eyes she didn't realize were closed and found him watching her, fire burning into emerald and slicing through it like a knife through butter.

And she could tell from the infuriating smirk on his lips that he was inviting _her_ to kiss _him._

Well she wouldn't. She couldn't. She'd done her part already hadn't she? Wasn't the actual kissing the male's role?

She'd gone too far anyway. She decided. He'd already found the chink in her perfect mask, why shouldn't he take it from here?

But she was already beginning to see disappointment in his eyes, was already feeling the moment pass, and could already sense him moving away...

So she threw whatever concept of dignity she had left out the window and pressed her lips tentatively to his.

Apparently that was all he'd wanted.

It was as though he wanted her to make the first move as an invite, as though he didn't want her to think he was taking advantage. But now the space was broken he was holding nothing back.

His kiss was so demanding and feral it made her very toes curl at the intensity. He'd pushed her back against he pillows and was on top of her, barricading her in a human box with his lean powerful arms. He appeared to be devouring her, needing to taste everything she had to offer, leaving bites and licks across the column of her neck, spreading wildfire with his lips and hands and exploding every cell in her body she was sure.

His hands spread across her shoulders, slipping the collar of her gown down to expose the curve of a breast. His lips followed, obediently sticking to the trail his hands had mapped out with great pleasure, both his and hers.

She arched her back, lifting herself from the bed and he used the opportunity to wrench the skirt of her nightdress up to her thighs. His hands became molten fire caressing her legs, the backs of her knees, then higher still until…

…until a loud knock reverberated round the room.

At first, the Cajun slowed his exploration, and then continued. Then the knock sounded again and Mercy's voice filtered through the door. Remy let out a mournful, pained cry and broke the kiss, burring his face in the pillow beside her head as she tried to catch her breath.

It was clear his sister in law would refuse to go away.

He lifted his head and looked down at her, slowly coming back to his senses. His satanic eyes danced with emotion as he searched her face. Apologising, he bent down to deliver a soul-searing kiss to her still swollen lips before removing himself from the bed.

He unbolted the heavy oak door and asked what the hell Mercy wanted.

His sister-in-law took in his rumpled clothes and tousled hair and coming t exactly the right conclusion. Slightly amused, she gave his the message she'd intended upon.

"Kingpin's downstairs." She relayed, and watched him glance back into the darkened room, then nod as if coming to a conclusion. Then he stepped out beside her in the hall, and walked away.

Mercy however, ducked inside the room and pulled a chair occupied by Remy maybe an hour and a half before and folding her hands in her lap.

"Now." She said briskly, leaving no room for argument. "I need t' talk t' y'."

_**xXXXx**_

_**Ooh, what could Mercy possibly want?**_

_**Catch ya later**_

_**Wild**_

_**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**_


	8. Shatter Star : Part 8

Hmmm…

_**Hmmm…. Well this is embarrassing… **_

_**Shatter Star chapter 8**_

AnnaMarie sped down the lavishly decorated halls, silken, jungle green skirts swirling round her long ankles decorative black shawl hiding the bulk of bandages on her shoulder. Mercy's dress was slightly too tight across her cheast, but that didn't matter – she wouldn't be wearing it long.

She paused as a wave of dizziness swept across her, she leant forward, breathing deep as darkness danced in front of her eyes, Mercy's comforting hand on her arm.

"Are y' okay?"

"Forh now." Anna breathed honestly, "Ah can't accoun' forh how long."

She looked up into Mercy's worried eyes, dizziness clearing, and saw her bite her lip guiltily. She smiled in reassurance.

"Don' worry Mercy." She said, mask slipping back on, a confidence – albeit false confidence – oozing from her.

Mercy smiled weakly and turned her head, honey brown locks swaying over slender shoulders, catching and breaking up the light, "I'm sorry Rogue. I hate t' ask dis o' y',"

Anna spoke nothing, and instead carried on down the hall, stopping outside a highly polished wooden door. Raised voices could be heard from inside, along with the occasional scrape of a chair. She turned to her companion, who nodded, then through the door wide and sped into the room.

Seven pairs of eyes spun to see her. Henri, Remy sat at the long oak table, next to a thin, dark-haired man she had never seen before. Fisk sat in between two large man Anna assumed to be bodyguards, and Logan stood at the far end of the room, intent silver eyes narrowed at Fisk.

For a moment, the room was suspended, every pair of eyes gazing at her, until at last the unknown man approached her, placing his hands on her shoulders. At the movement of someone who obviously held a high amount of respect, the others stood.

"So y'," said he, "are what's causin' alla dis trouble."

His accent was thick and pronounced, his voice low, but did nothing to disguise only enhance his naturally sultry voice. Deep, dark brown eyes appraised her, a small twinkle lighting their depths. A tiny web of lines mapped the outside of his lips and eyes, and Anna could feel the strength in the hands that held her, despite the gentleness.

Instinctively, AnnaMarie knew that this was someone to whom she should bow; she dipped her head and curtsied, eyes low, deciding on the spot to be good.

The impressive man let a smile curl at the sides of his mouth, and Anna was suddenly struck by the resemblance he bore to Remy. It took no longer then a split second afterward to determine who this man was.

Jean-Luc Lebeau. Leader of the thieves' guild. Remy's father.

Panic struck her suddenly as she racked her brains, searching for a memory – any memory – of him.

This man was no boy when he would have seen her last. His memories would not be tainted by the inaccuracy of youth. And the peculiar glint in his eye, the line of his mouth, suggested he may not be in such ignorance. He might recognise her.

After a moment, however, he smiled, and the warmth of reassurance emanated from him.

"Well," he spoke, loud voice reverberating round the room, "I mus' say dat I can see wha' all de fuss is about."

A nervous chuckle passed around the room – instigated mainly by Henri. Remy looked fit to kill her.

Jean –Luc then escorted her to his now empty chair, the chair beside Remy. Though the action appeared absent minded, Anna could tell that the King of thieves was trying to enhance an intimacy between herself and his son.

With faked uncharacteristic shyness, she sent a tentative smile his way. Gambit's demon eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but at his father's warning glance, he managed a convincing smile back. She then lowered her eyes and sat in silence.

"Now." Said Jean – Luc, seating himself in at the end of the table, and surveying both sides. "I 'ope dat now we 'ave a Lady in our company we can all act an' use language like _gentlemen._"

The last word was spoken with a special look at Fisk who had the bravery to not shrink under the scrutiny.

"In fact," He went on, steeping his fingers together and passing his gaze across them all. "I t'ink dis matter c'n be settled by merely askin' 'er."

"She will not admit to being wild Jean- Luc -," Fisk spoke at last. And Anna could feel his small, piggish eyes on the top of her bowed head.

"Bot' m' son's 'ave admitted 'er initial difficulty, _m'seiu _Fisk." Jean-Luc interrupted with enough force to show he would not be crossed. "Remy 'owever assures me dat 'e as found a way aroun' 'er little er…dominance problem."

Anna did not need to look to know she was being watched with amusement from the figure on her right. She could almost see his satanic eyes, dancing with laughing sparks.

"She did not seem the type to give up so easily."

"An' yet," replied Jean-Luc, voice as smooth as chocolate, "As y' see before y', she is no trouble."

Anna kept her eyes lowered, felt fingers – Remy's fingers – glide along the back of her neck in a very public, very possessive manner.

_Branding her his_, she realized, _making it clear for the world to see who she belonged to._

And god help her, she loved it.

"And how," said Fisk "was this achieved so quickly, with such tremendous results. I have never had one comply so readily. Did you force her?"

A muffled curse sounded behind her as someone's foot made contact with a chair. She had forgotten Logan was there; suddenly she was mortified at the slow progression of Gambit's fingers as they twined in her hair and across her spine. They stilled at Kingpin's accusation.

"No need at all." He replied, his voice a shockingly subtle mix of easiness and vehemence, "she was complian' 'nough, an' enjoyed 'erself, didn' y' Rogue?"

Rogue ducked her head as though concealing a blush, but sent an arrowed look to her nemesis through her hair. This – to her annoyance – only seemed to amuse him.

"Well it would appear my concerns were ill founded, providing you are telling the truth."

Before any Lebeau could express they're outrage at being called a liar, however subtly, Remy swooped forward and placed a searingly possessive kiss on Rogue's mouth, using the hand based at the nape of her neck to leverage her toward him – and hold her there.

Rogue stilled, afraid to move as he claimed her lips with his own. She couldn't fight him if she wanted to- and she wasn't sure if she did…

Within seconds it was over, and far off in the distance she could hear Henri saying: "There. Now d' y' doubt dat dey've lain toget'er?"

Fisk's response was quiet, as was his exit, but Anna heard neither, she merely stared at Remy, and he back at her, until her senses returned and her rage built.

At last, she fled, huge eyes full of tears, watched by the three baffled men with wide-eyes, and one very quiet one with flaming irises.

They all wanted answers.

_**XxxxxX**_

When Anna reached the room she'd woken up in, Remy's room, she took several deep breaths to calm herself.

She understood that the meeting was necessary, knew that her co operation was vital, and gathered that convincing the KingPin they were sleeping together was best but…

Did he have to do it quite so graphically, or embarrass her quite so much?

Anger ripped at Anna's insides, tearing through her chest, anger at Fisk, anger at Remy…

…And anger at herself for not wanting him to stop.

A small sound behind her announced the arrival of another. Rogue assumed it to be Mercy, having run past her in her retreat from the now hated room.

Slowly, the emotions were reined under control, and the mask slipped back across her face, and she turned.

Only to keel back in shock…

Remy.

He lounged against his wall by the door, watching her intently. She sighed, frustrated, and turned away.

"Wha' do ya wan'?"

He raised an eyebrow, "I beg y' humble pardon?"

"Ah really don' want ta talk to ya."

"Dat's okay," he replied, breath-taking slanted smile across his face, belying his meaning, " Remy don' really wan' t' talk anyhow."

Anna stared at him, shocked at his obvious seriousness. Then gritted her teeth and turned away. "Ah, as a lady, don' have any knowledge at all wha' ya implying."

Anna could almost see the sparks flying from his eyes, could picture the amusement dancing in them. She didn't hear his soft approach, but felt his hot breath as he nuzzled his face into her hair.

"Can y' not guess?" he husked, words playing across his lips. "I t'ink I deserve some compensation…"

"Compensation?" She raged, pulling away and turning so she faced him. "Ya aren't tellin' me ya actually think _You _gave somthang up in there?

At his shrug, she raged.

"Ah have just been forced ta give up mah dignity, mah pride an' integrity! What exactly have ya parted wit' at mah expense tha' I should compensate ya forh?"

He walked toward her, eyes blazing. "Y' didn' seem t' be t'inkin much o' y' _integrity_ and _dignity_ when y' kissed me afore we met de kingpin."

She turned to hide the flush in her cheeks. "Ah had just woken up an' was…weakened…but fear not tha' the memory of tha' encounter an' yoah kisses arouses disgust an' it will not happen again."

"Was dat all mon kisses aroused?"

She turned and looked him directly in the eye, and didn't answer.

"What d' y' t'ink't cost _me_ t' call Mon pere home from 'is holiday? How much pride d' y' t'ink _I_ 'ad t' sacrifice t' beg 'im back fo' y', t' denounce _monself _an incompetan' an' unfit leader?"

She lowered her head, embarrassed. She hadn't thought of how much it had cost him. She hadn't thought of anyone but herself.

"Ya shoul' not 'ave brought meh here. Ya should 'ave left meh. Ah shoul' beh at home."

"Home?" he breathed, voice low. "Wha' 's home t' a slave?"

She blanched, standing deathly pale before him, eyes huge, realising her mistake.

"Ah jus' meant…wit' people Ah know…with the assassins…"

She tried to turn, to avoid his narrowed eyes, but he grasped her arm, yanking her to him.

"Assassins." He said, voice a slow hiss. "Julian Bordeaux an' 'is cousins."

"Well…yes."

Her word must have been wrong, for he was fuming, his grip tightened on her arm, biting into her flesh.

"An' _quoi _'xactly." He carried on. "Does he give y'? How does he treat y' better den _moi_?

"Ya jus' publicaly _falsely_ announced me yoah slut!"

"Ahhh…an' y' 'friad 't might get back t' 'im no? Y' 'friad he might drop y' after t'inkin' dat y' sleepin' wit' his enemy?"

His eyes narrowed, sparks flying from them.

"Are y' 'is woman? Does he grant y' a place in 'is royal bed?'"

Quickly affronted, and angered at his previous words, she drew back her hand, and, unthinking of the consequences, slapped him hard across the cheek.

Breathing heavily, she tried to twist her arm from his grip, but he held fast, then drew her too him, crushing her mouth beneath his in a fierce embrace.

It was not about passion. It was not about gentleness. It was about possession – and him branding her his.

He let her go as abruptly as he'd seized her, she stumbled back, lost her footing and fell in a heap in green silk on the hardwood floor, trying to wipe the taste of him from her mouth with her hand.

He laughed cruelly, and hunkered down beside her.

"'F y' miss 'im _chere._" He breathed as she froze in her action, staring with huge eyes. "An' are in need 'f a li'l comfort," He spread his arms wide, in the universal gesture of 'I'm here'.

At her disgusted look, he laughed again, and stood up, turning to leave.

"By the way." He said, voice hard as he left. "'F we gonna keep dis up, y gonna 'ave t' stay 'ere. Kingpin's got spies all over de place, an' he still t'inks we lyin' t' 'im. Understandably, given y' reaction t' _mon_ kiss."

An unreadable expression came across his face and he turned, opened the door, and stalked out.

Leaving Anna, crumpled and fallen, sitting on the floor to dread the night ahead of her.

_**XxxxxX**_

_**Whoo hooooo!!**_

_**Leave A review!!**_


	9. Shatter Star : Part 9

_**Disclaimer: The disclaimer is paying a visit to Marvel right now, but don't worry – he'll be back safe and sound :cackles evilly:**_

_**Shatter star**_

_**Chapter 9**_

Jean-luc Lebeau shrugged into the soft fabric of his fur-lined coat and surveyed his two sons over the collar.

"Y' sure y' can' stay _pere_?"

Jean-Luc looked at his eldest son. Henri had been his mother's favourite, with his dark hair and smiling eyes. The good boy – even when he was young, the responsible one. Sometimes, when Henri looked at him, he could almost see Claudette shining out of the bottomless depths.

Jean-Luc smiled at him, "Can' let y' new _Belle-Mere_ t'ink I'm neglectin' 'er can we?"

Henri smiled back and Jean-Luc cast his gaze to his youngest child.

Remy sat, sulking, his feet up on Henri's desk and his demonic eyes flashing at some spot unseen by anyone else.

The king of thieves' blood ran cold at the memory of the boy's birth, and his wife's reaction to his second son. Fearing Jean-Luc's reaction to his child's abnormal eyes, Claudette had tried to hide Remy from him, claimed the boy had been born dead. Jean-Luc could still hear Remy's desperate cry as he'd walked in hours later to find his wife handing his child over to the midwife to 'dispose' of.

He had almost been convinced, had almost handed the child over himself when he saw his eyes. But then his son mewed and blinked up at him, clenched a tiny fist around his finger, and Jean-Luc knew he'd do anything for the small infant in his arms.

His love for Claudette had died that day.

And when he made it clear that he was keeping his son, she had begged, pleaded, done everything to convince him to rid their family of 'the embarrassment'. All she had achieved was ensuring that Jean-Luc showered his son with gifts and enough love for the both of them.

The neglect had been useful however. Fully aware his mother despised him; Remy had become determined to better everyone – even his own brother – in his bid to win his her affection. And through the constant disappointment and cold upbringing, Remy had become strong, almost unbreakable.

Until today, Jean-Luc had seen nothing but the devil-may-care attitude since his son was seven years old.

And what had brought about this change? A woman. An enemy princess in disguise.

The king had known her in an instant, so startlingly like her mother was she. Same high cheekbones, same flashing eyes – her father's nose though.

And his feral temper.

Absent-mindedly, Jean-Luc wondered if her father had recognised her. He supposed he had.

Remy looked up, eyes flashing, and Jean-luc could see no one but himself in the strong features of his face. He knew what it had cost his son to call him home.

He hoped she was worth it.

No words were exchanged – just a look that said it all.

"Well." He sighed, pulling on the worn leather gloves, and turning back to Henri, "Paris awaits."

He should be angry, he supposed, for allowing his son to risk so much. Angry for his son to have fallen for a woman that was his betrothed's cousin.

For he had no doubt his son was in love with the young auburn haired temptress, even if Gambit did. Remy would never have risked so much or dared to defy him - or the contract he had drawn up over the union of the two guilds – otherwise.

Yes, love was the only excuse Jean-luc was prepared to accept.

He wondered when Remy would realise his affections.

With a hug to his eldest child and a smile to his younger, Jean-luc descended the numerous marble steps and alighted the carriage that would take him to the docks.

His thoughts were already in Paris – and with the love that waited for him there.

_**XxxX**_

Anna cast her magnificent eyes over to where Kitty played with the kitchen cat, giggling as it pounced toward the string that she dangled in front of its face, and sent a grateful smile to Jean as she placed a mug of tea in front of her, before retreating back to her cleaning duties.

"Ain' you supposed ta be restin' someplace?"

Rogue sighed and turned to face Logan, who was chewing the end of a cigar, slumping in the chair beside her.

"Yeah," She replied, taking a sip of the steaming liquid, "But Ah ain' gonna till Ah wan'."

"Ya look tired."

She nodded, "Ah am. But Ah'll rot in hell before Ah do anythin' that man tells meh to without argument."

She winced as she shifted her shoulder and Logan chuckled. "Cuttin' off yer nose to spite yer face. Stubborn as a mule – get that from yer mother yer know."

Anna smiled softly at him, the question she had been meaning to bring up for days swirling in her mind, "How did ya know mah mother?"

For some reason, Logan wouldn't meet her eyes, "I met 'er in Germany, just after her husband had died."

Huge eyes widened, "Well then…ya must know mah father. That was aroun' th' the tihme she met him. Do ya remember anyone…?"

She trailed off at the shake of his head. "I ain't getting into that darlin'. Creed an' I both promised-,"

"Creed?" Rogue blanched, "Victor Creed knows mah father?"

"He used to. Look we swore-,"

"Swore ta who? Logan, Mah whole lihfe Ah been illegitimate. Ah jus' wanna know where Ah come from, can' ya jus' give meh a name…?"

He looked at her then, stormy eyes soft and sad, "I'm sorry kid. I promised yer ma."

Lashes coved her eyes as she gave a heartfelt, weary sigh. "Can' ya tell meh anythin'? What was he like? Did he know about meh?"

Wolverine nodded, smiled, "Yeah he knew, he went back for ya."

"But?"

A heavy breath escaped her lips, "Ya ma…wanted summin' better than what he could give ya. So he left."

Her brow furrowed and she looked hurt. "Jus' like that? He didn't even wanna see meh?"

"O'course he did. Jus'…" He shrugged, "when yer ma married again – didn' seem like a good idea ta jus' walk in an' say 'hey that's my girl…I wanna see her'. Besides that, he'd promised too."

She scoffed, "promises. Obviously he didn' care enough ta wan' meh, or he woulda made _some_ kinda contact."

"He thought bout it. More then once."

"But he _didn't_. Logan, Ah been alone since Ah watched mah mother dihe when Ah was four. Surely he musta heard of that? _You_ did. A letter or a visit or _summin_would have been nihce."

Logan's brow knitted together. "Look, kid-,"

A large bang behind them halted Logan mid sentence and, wincing, Anna turned to see Sephy rushing through the door.

"Oh, thank god for that." She gasped, chest heaving from obvious running. "Remy's looking everywhere for you!"

"Well he can jus' carry on lookin' can' he?" Anna sniffed, turning back to her tea, "Wha's he wan' anyhow?"

Sephy shrugged her dark shoulders, "Dunno, but he don' look too happy."

AnnaMarie sighed, and then stood, the blue folds of Mercy's skirt dancing round her legs, "Well Ah guess a whole day without seein' 'im was a li'l too much ta ask forh, Ah may as well get this whole thang ovah with. But Ah wanna finish this conversation Logan."

At Wolverine's nod, AnnaMarie swept passed Sephy and out the kitchen doors.

_**XxxxxX**_

Wilson Fisk checked the expensive golden watch again, admiring the sleekness of its design. He hated to be kept waiting.

Fisk knew the reason for his associate's lateness; he was a man who understood the invaluable perks of intimidation. He knew that just a couple of minutes in an official looking room watched by a less then friendly, hard-faced, marble like butler that looked down his nose at you – no matter what your rank – could prove beneficial.

It would appear his 'business partner', knew also.

All the same, Fisk disliked the tactic when it was used upon himself, especially when he was returning a favour.

At last the sleek mahogany door to the right of the desk opened, and the old, silver-haired man appeared from the room, apologising unconvincingly for his lateness.

Out of habit, KingPin sized up his potential opponent. Tall and powerful – a man with strength behind the cunning. Broad-chested and in top physical condition – despite the lines of age that marked his face.

It was then that Fisk noticed the other man in the room. His son, Fisk guessed, same silver hair and blue eyes, same body frame, though he was slightly leaner than his father. Young, not long rid of twenty.

"You've been to the guild?" The first asked in a deep, powerful voice that spoke of age and knowledge. "Do you have her?"

Fisk smiled. "Unfortunately, no. The guild leaders, especially the younger son, were unwilling to let me have her. I did my best – have placed my spies, but even they can't do anything unless they discover the two are lying."

"Two? How exactly did these 'two' weasel out?"

"As you know, I chose to play on the wild angle. They assured me that she had been…tamed…I had no choice but to leave."

The shocking blue eyes narrowed catching on to his meaning, "She allowed you to believe this of her?"

"Very much so. She allowed him to touch her in my presence, and was totally unperturbed and docile at his suggestions."

Silence, then: "You believe them to be intimate?"

"That was the impression I received. Is that a problem?"

The man sat back in his chair, cool and calculating, tips of strong fingers tracing lips and chin in thought. The son shifted. "No." he said at last, standing and holding a hand out toward him, "Thank you mister Fisk, you have been invaluable, as well you know. I shall arrange the passage back to new York – if you are agreeable?"

A few more minutes of pleasant chat, and Fisk left the office.

Eric Lensherr settled back into the chair, calloused fingers playing across his chin absent-mindedly.

Pietro stepped forward "do you want me to tell him?"

A second of silence, then: "No. Not just yet. Wait a while; we want to see how this plays out. Obviously she's hiding from the others; let's try to find out why before we make another move."

"What makes you think they don't know?"

"You think Julian would allow his cousin anywhere near the likes of Remy Lebeau? You think Warren would? No. She's hiding. And she's clever, she's doing it for a reason-and I have a feeling I know what. I've been planning this for years Pietro, A little longer won't hurt."

"I think we should tell him."

"Not yet. Not outright, try and steer him, suggest it, but he's the innocent, and he likes her. So not yet. Be subtle, Pietro – I know you have it in you somewhere."

His son bowed his head, and left the room.

Leaving Eric alone with his roiling thoughts and a thousand memories and schemes.

_**XxxxxX**_

"Dere y' are."

Anna moved to the centre of the room and held her head high, staring at a point on the wall. She could feel his satanic eyes as he ran an appreciative gaze across her form.

"You bellowed, my lord."

Remy's full male lips jerked up in response to her quip, "I did. Dis is Tabit'a." He gestured to a curvaceous blonde that stood in an immaculate, gleaming blue gown with ornate, hand sown decoration, her pale gold, honey streaked hair swept up in a fashionable style and her alarming blue eyes surveying Anna in a curious fashion.

Rogue liked her on sight.

"She's goin' t' dress y'."

Anna's head snapped round so fast she feared she might hurt her neck. "Ah'm sorrah?"

Obviously enjoying her outrage, Remy smirked at her, "Surely't mus' 'b frustrating t' always borrow de odder women's in did house?"

"Ah don' think tha's the reason forh y new-found generosity, is it, _my lord_?"

He chuckled, "Don' y' wan' new clothes? I t'ought all women liked t' dress up?"

Rogue merely glared at him, lifted an eyebrow by manner of repeating her question.

He sighed, strutted toward her, "Y' belong t' _me_ now _Chere_. Y' mine. I can' very well have y' wonderin' roun' lookin' like y' do."

Her eyes were near slits now, "An' what's wrong wit' how Ah look?"

The look he responded with pierced through her, "Not'in' at all."

"Then Ah don' _need_ new clothes."

"_Non_, Y' don' need dem." He replied, his eyes narrowing slightly, "Bu' y' goin' t' have dem."

"Why?"

He gave her a wicked grin, "Remy likes t' unwrap 'is prize."

She felt her breath hitch in her throat, both from his words and his proximity.

The night before she'd steeled herself for this – the innuendos and the suggestions. She'd even toyed with the idea that he might come back and demand her complacently whilst he had his way, after all what did she know of the man?

Only he hadn't come back at all, he'd stayed away from her, and she was infuriated to learn that that she was slightly disappointed. And how she'd burned when she thought of all the other places he could be, of all the other women he could be with…

Last night she had steeled herself for it, but today she was off her guard. Today she was unsure, today she didn't know how she should respond. She had to tread carefully now, this man held her whole future, her life, in the palm of those oh-so-skilful-hands….

So instead of another set down, instead of a quip, she lowered her eyes.

He looked shocked. "_Quoi_? _Non_ snappy reply?"

She glared through her lashes, and smiled sweetly, "Who am Ah ta argue? Ah'm sure ya _lordship_," she added sarcastic pressure to the word, "Is of a position whereupon he finds himself always within the right."

He laughed heartily at her suggestion of the spoilt ness of his nature. "Dat I do." He sidled even closer, and out the corner of her eye she saw Tabitha tactfully pretend to be engrossed in the fabrics in one trunk.

"Dat's anudder t'ing Cherie. Y' gonna have t' get used t' callin' me by _Mon_ name."

She crossed her arms, ignoring the way his hot breath on her face made her feel. "An' why exactly is that, _my lord_?"

The corner of his sinful mouth slowly, gradually tilted, "Because," he breathed, voice low and sexual, "When y' give in, an' y' are goin' t'," he added at the defiant look on her face, "when y' finally give _moi quoi_ I wan' a' I get inside y', y' gonna need t' b' familiar wit' _mon_ name – 'm gonna make y' call 't."

Overriding the original shock, she replied with: "We'll see 'bout that swamp rat – if this is gonna turn into a battle of wills, y' better bring some ammunition."

The look smouldered her soul: "Believe me when I say I'm more den equipped _mignon_."

"An' Ah'm more'n stubborn _my lord_."

He chuckled, husked: "I can' wait t' see what else y' are, _Cherie_."

He lay a kiss across her knuckles, eyes never leaving her own, piercing her resolve, then he turned to leave.

She turned, "Ya aren't stayin'?"

He stopped, spun, smiled privately, "D' y' wan' me to?"

"Not on ya life."

He chuckled. "'m 'fraid 'm gonna have t' sit dis one else _belle_, but don' y' worry – I'll be back afore y' miss me"

He winked cheekily – and left.

_**XxxxxX**_

OOOOOOOooooooooh the intrigue!

This was supposed to be longer, but I'd rather get this out and start work on the next, already written but not typed instalment of Fade. But fear not dear readers!!

Soon Wanda will appear in her wondrous glory!

Unless you don't review!


	10. Shatter Star : Part 10

Okay, I know that the next update is supposed to be Fade but it's taking so damn long

Okay, I know that the next update is supposed to be _Fade _but it's taking so damn long! Besides which, it's not nearly so much fun to write ;)

So without further Ado…..

_**Shatter Star**_

_**Two months later…**_

Remy strolled casually into the conference room, delighted over the gradual development of his relationship with Rogue.

The past two months she'd seemed to warm a little more to him. She smiled and laughed, knocking back every suggestive and inappropriate comment with a smile and the occasional one of her own.

She was flirting with him. And despite the fact that he was more convinced than ever of her real identity, he loved every second.

Remy was no fool. He knew that something dangerous was stirring beneath the surface of his soul. But he couldn't stop himself from being near her – apart from his casual disappearance at night time (he didn't trust himself quite that much) – and he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face when he pictured the look she'd give him before he'd leave.

His heart swelled at the memory of their most recent cosy encounter.

Only to sink when he saw the look on the raven haired woman's face.

Wanda Maximoff was an unusual breed of woman, who led an unusual way of life. Abandoned by her father at the age of twelve, she'd grown up despising the male gender, and Remy often felt as though he were the outlet of that. He had to admit though; he had respect for any woman who could work her way up from nothing in a male dominated world with her honour intact, especially one as lovely as she.

She rested her head on long, slender fingers that were knotted under her chin. Her navy eyes were narrowed in her porcelain face as she arched one jet eyebrow and swept a strand of glossy black hair from her shoulders.

Remy often thought she looked like snow white, especially garbed - as she so often was – in a deep scarlet dress that, though practical, did nothing to hide her very womanly figure.

She smiled – a dangerous sign.

"Mr. Lebeau…how wonderful of you to finally join me."

Yes, Remy thought, Snow White's looks – with none of her sweetness.

He grinned at her, "Apologies, _Belle_, I 'ad a li'l trouble wit' a new slave."

He knew that his nickname for her would irk her just as much as the comment of the slave. Having been so low once herself – and still could be referred to as such - Wanda hated the term.

He chuckled slightly when she shook her head at him in disgust – he loved to wind her up and push all those little buttons…

"_Quoi_?" He gasped, feigning shock, "are y' no' gon't' rise f'r y' superior?"

"Gladly." She replied, voice dripping with disdain, as she glanced up from a pile of papers she'd brought with her, "If you would be so good as to point one out."

He tutted good-naturedly, "Dat ain' no way t' show good breedin' _Chere_."

"My goal in life. However if you insist, then I shall merely mention that had you been twenty minutes earlier, you'd have seen me walk into the room."

He winked, "'Fraid I forgot y'? Don' y' worry none _Chere_ – y' know Remy'd go 'neywhere t' see y' _Belle_ face."

She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, giving him the impression she was mentally counting to ten, "You know I'd really rather speak to your brother."

"Oho, I bet y' woul'."

She gave him an acid look, "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged and tilted his head at her, "Not'in' at all. Jus' that before _Mon frere_ got married, y' an' he used t' spend an awful lot o' time locked up 'n here toget'er."

She flushed, and he had the feeling it was more from anger than anything else, "If that is a slight against my honour-,"

"'f course't ain'." He replied, all the while smiling in a way that told her that that was exactly what it was. "I was jus' commentin' on y' apparent fondness for _mon frere_."

The look she gave him said it all, she took a deep breath, "Look, I just want to get this over and done with. This is a rather urgent meeting and I have several appointments to attend."

He just smiled, and sat down across from her.

"You will probably know all about the tragedy of a few months ago-,"

"_Non_."

Wanda levelled him with a disbelieving look, "Well to bring you up to date then, my princesses' cousins' home was ransacked during the night and the only female inside was kidnapped."

"Dat's awful."

"Yes," She paused, searching his face for a long instant, "To be frank Mr.-"

"Remy, _Belle_, please"

"-Lebeau, we have recently heard of an accusation – and have uncovered proof, that members of your family were inside the building at the time of the incident."

Remy smiled at her, "We 'ad recently 'eard dat dere would b' an attack on y' young princess Anna's life. As't was unlikely dat y' crown princess –'owever close she an' I are-," he added bitterly, "-would believe us, we decided t' intercept ourselves."

"And you saw no sign of her?"

"None't all."

Navy eyes narrowed, "And you took nothing for yourselves?"

"'m sure 'n intelligent young _fille_ like y'self woul' 'ave gone t'rough de catalogue an' realised dat dere ain' nothin' gone a t'ief would take."

"Not even something like a…'new slave'?"

He chuckled, but inside, something niggled at him, the question was too apt, too close. "Y' t'ink we were gon' let a few o' good men 'n women die f'r not doin' dere duty when dey coul' provide us excellent service?"

"I want to speak to them."

The uneasy feeling deepened and he stood, signalling their meeting over. "'m 'fraid dat's out o' de question."

She stood too, "They might know where she is!"

"Y' t'ink we 'aven' asked dem?"

She narrowed her gaze, "Your hiding something."

He nodded, "_Mon_ distaste f'r dis meetin'. Now 'f y'll excuse me."

Wanda let out a frustrated breath, snatching up the papers she'd brought with her. "My princess sends her affection."

He chuckled, appraisal almost admiring, "What a cool liar y' are."

The side of her dark red mouth pulled up involuntarily, and she ducked her head so he couldn't see. When she was half out the door, he called her, and she turned.

"Why are y' here now? What proof is dere dat we 'ave 'er?"

The grin across her face was wicked, and she made to leave again.

"Inform y' lovely princess Belle, dat 'er beloved will n't rest till he knows 'er cousin is lyin' in a nice, warm bed, safe an' soun'."

She sneered at him, shook her head.

"Give 'er_ mon_ love."

"I don't think I am _that_ good a liar Mr. Lebeau."

He chuckled as she left him in a sweep of Scarlett, what she didn't know is that he wasn't lying – he _would_ do anything to make sure that Princess Anna was safely abed.

With him.

_**XxxxxX**_

Wanda left the room in stealth, casting a cursory glance down the hallway before heading in the opposite direction of the foyer.

Wanda was an uncomplicated person, contrary to very popular belief, she woke up, did her job well and went back to bed – her life in a nutshell.

The fact that she'd managed to stay atop of the ladder her whole adult life, seemed to both surprise and irk the male gender – particularly those in her rank.

She didn't owe, she got what she had relying on no-one but herself, and she loved that.

But even the strongest need a little help in getting anywhere – blind ambition doesn't feed. And so it was, that at the tender age of fifteen she found herself cleaned up the best she could after a month living on the New Orleans streets and begging to get by, at the door of Marius Bordeaux after hearing through word-of-mouth the death of their guild relations manager.

And it was there, after being turned from the door by some stuck up maid, she met AnnaMarie, a green-eyed vision a year younger then herself, who recognized a kindred spirit in the scruffy, raven haired urchin that had been grinding the pretty pink flowers in the ground outside with the heel of her shoe.

Almost before Wanda knew it AnnaMarie had secured allies in her elder brothers Kurt and Warren, and argued with Marius herself in order to ensure her new friend a place on his staff.

In six months, Wanda had secured the job she'd originally come to beg for.

And although Wanda didn't owe anything to anyone, she'd readily die for AnnaMarie if the need arose.

So when Kurt – fully aware of Wanda's devotion to his only sister - came saying he'd had a message from his missing sibling and needed someone to 'talk some sense into her'. Wanda had been blackmailed into skulking around the mansion of thieves.

She only hoped Scott had got AnnaMarie _her_ message.

Twenty minutes later, Wanda knew she had worried in vain. Scott's directions to the small garden had been accurate, and the back of her friend's platinum-streaked auburn locks were easily visible from her seat on the bench.

Inwardly, Wanda breathed a sigh of relief. It had little mattered to her that Scott had given his word, fear for her friend was almost all-consuming, and although she shown effect of it to know one – she knew Kurt had guessed it's presence in her eyes.

Stealthily, she approached the still figure seated before her, and though she made no sound, she knew AnnaMarie knew she was there.

"Rogue, I presume?"

Anna stood, smiled at her, "Indeed Ah am."

Wanda sighed. "What the hell do you think your doing?"

"What happen' ta all those manners Ah taught ya?"

"They vanished the day my best friend did."

Anna bit her lip, and had the decency to look at least a little shamefaced, "Ah'm sorrah Wanda, Ah know this has been real hard forh everyone-,"

Dark eyes narrowed on the white and green patterned gossamer dress, "_You_ don't look to be doing too bad."

Anna sighed, sank back to the stone bench. "Ah know what ya wan'-,"

"Of course you do. It's the same thing everyone in your family wants."

"Ah think mah father's here."

The words were whispered, barely audible over the sigh of spring wind, but they're impact could not have been greater.

"What? _Here_?"

Her friend nodded, "Everythin's a li'l too coincidental forh it not ta be him."

Wanda sank down beside her, "Rogue, you know what the chances are."

Leaf green eyes bored into Wanda, willing her to understand, desperation lowering the voice to a husky breath, "But there's still a chance."

Wanda let go a disbelieving laugh, eyes darting round the garden that was just bursting into life, turning shocking blue when faced in the direction of the light, "This is madness."

Anna smiled, tilted her head, auburn locks pooling across her shoulders, "Ah've won haven' Ah?"

Her dark friend gave her a stern look that was soft beneath the surface, "I know how much parentage means to you. And although your brother will roast me alive, I'm giving you a reprieve. Two months, and I mean what I say when that is it."

Anna nodded, knowing it was the best she could hope for, then cheekily she grinned at her, "Tha' boy asked ya ta marry 'im yet?"

Wanda stood, "This is not a social visit."

"He did!"

"Yes, he did. And he never will again."

Anna shook her head, sighed, "He coulda been the love o' yohr life."

"I still would not have married him, as you well know."

Her friend laughed, then looked around, "It's about tihme our little interlude was over. Though Ah am glad ta see ya. Ah daresay ya've memorised th' way ouht?"

At Wanda's nod, she smiled, then sighed, "Well Ah gotta beh somewhere. So…" At the last minute, Anna swept her best friend into a hug that left them both shocked, Anna was not a physical person.

Then with one last smile, and a sweep of green skirt, Anna had gone, and Wanda began to make her own way back to the outside.

Halfway along a corridor adorned on both sides by heavy, intricate tapestries, Wanda heard footsteps approaching her from around the sloping hallway, she made to double back, but the telltale rattling of a tray signalled the arrival of a maid in the opposite direction.

Stuck, Wanda searched for windows – but if there were any, the tapestries covered them, and she couldn't see a gap in which to duck behind them either. A child's voice sounded from ahead. Because of the curve of the walls, she was hidden for the instance, but the footsteps were growing closer.

Suddenly, before she knew what was happening, a strong, calloused hand gripped her forearm and yanked her into a cleverly disguised gap that covered a tiny alcove, just big enough for her and her 'saviour' to cower in as he twitched the tapestry back to place.

Wada had just enough time to catch the violent orange hair and dark green eyes before the heavy fabric blocked out most of the light, and the man pressed himself so close to her a lesser woman probably would of screamed.

And judging from the hand pressed against her lips, he clearly thought she still might.

"Allowed me to apologise for the proximity, Shelia, something tells me you're not enjoying it as much as I am."

She glared at him, though she hardly thought he could see it in the dim light. She had no doubt; however, that he _was_ enjoying it, the smile in his lightly accented voice told her enough.

She held her tongue however, and desperately tried to ignore the heady cloud that had seemed to descend upon her senses, and the way her body tingled every place that he touched her – and that was far too many places to count.

"_Maman_-,"

"_Quoi_ did I jus' say _Petite_?"

"_Pere_ woul' let me."

"Oh y' reckon so?"

"_Please_!"

"_Bon Matin_ Tessa."

"Miss."

"_Maman-_,"

As the voices died away, Wanda realized her captor didn't seem to feel obliged to moved at all. Tilting her head, she realized he was gazing at her. She opened her mouth to abuse him, his sanity, his proximity, anything, but instead all that came out was-

"Thank you."

She felt, rather than saw him smile. "S'ok. I had plans to help out some astonishingly beautiful woman today anyway."

To her embarrassment, Wanda felt her cheeks flush. She'd been told she was beautiful before, but no one had ever made her feel that their words were really meant.

It was different, and it unnerved her.

"As I hardly think your going to tell me what you're doing here, and I'm already part of whatever crime, allow me to suggest another way out."

"Thank you."

He smiled. And this time she got the full effect of his gorgeous face as he parted the tapestry and a bar of light fell across his face, adding flame to his wild hair and lighting his eyes. He took her hand, and her fingers tingled, she stared at the spot his flesh connected to hers as he pulled her down the hall.

She barely acknowledged the passage entrance, or registered her wonder that he could know so much of the building. She was too busy listening to the weird things he was saying to himself, the cackling laugh. Too busy watching the deliberate grace of his stride, the crazy amusement in his face, feeling the kindness he showed her.

Kindness was something she hadn't had from a man in a very long time.

Eventually Wanda realized that the soft fingers of wind were pushing through her hair, and sunlight graced her face. They stood in a small, sheltered piece of woodland, and, looking back, Wanda noticed that a seemingly immovable wall had slid into place over the passage.

She turned back to meet sparkling green eyes dancing with something she couldn't name.

"Even prettier when I can see you."

What had come over her? Cold, impersonal, Wanda Maximoff, reduced to mush because of some Australian stranger with a crazy sense of humour?

And an enemy Australian at that?

Madness.

But as her rescuer leaned forward, she felt herself longing for his lips to touch hers.

Thankfully, the fresh air seemed to revive some of the sense she previously lacked.

"Thank you." She breathed, realizing as she did that is was the third time she'd said the same thing.

His lip quirked in answer, he had realized it too.

"So I guess now is when you make your hasty escape?"

She laughed. Really laughed.

"I want to see you again."

Wanda recognised she wanted the same. She smiled, "I'll make sure you do."

He extended his hand. "John."

She took it, "Wanda."

"An assassin?"

"Not right now."

"Ah."

Awkwardness, something she hadn't felt in a while. "Uh-,"

"Thank you?"

This time she knew he saw her glare, but it made him chuckle, "Think you can make it home from here?"

She nodded, slightly irked, "I could have handled it back there."

The green eyes pierced her, "I'm sure you could have. But then when I go to meet you at the Saturday market, you might not even be there."

The grin was wicked, "Maybe I still won't."

He laughed, "I'm willing to take that chance."

And as Wanda turned away, the smile on her face genuine, she knew that she was too.

_**XxxxxX**_

There ya go – no Romy, but some Johnda!

I know I made Wanda and John really out of character, but in every fic I've read – it's him chasing her really cool-headed self. I just wanted to be original and even up the score :D

Really sorry about John's lack of accent by the way – but it was hard and even I didn't know what he was talking about!

Push the button!


	11. Shatter Star : Part 11

_**Disclaimer: The disclaimer ran away with the muse...i'm afraid i'll only miss one of them...**_

_**Shatter Star**_

_**Chapter 11**_

She could not fathom the appeal of being a courtesan.

Granted, she wasn't one. But even the act itself was so implicitly _boring _she wished she were still doing the household chores. It was not deemed _proper _for her to speak with servants. It was not considered _moral _for her to play – or even speak to Clive (not that she didn't). And god forbid she even suggest doing _work _to pass the time.

So what exactly drew perfectly capable women with hands and legs and brains into believing a life doing nothing but preening and washing and sitting around being available for the occasional visit from one specific man was a good one?

Nothing, by her estimation.

Although, AnnaMarie mused, she supposed _actual_ courtesans did a little more with their specific men then she did with Remy.

Every time he visited her, he made an effort to actually spend the time, barely half a day went by without seeing him, and on those occasions, he generally had a gift for her.

She adored the gifts – they ranged from the exotic and expensive, to the petty and attentive. Chocolate in from France, the finest of English and Chinese teas, dresses in silk, velvet, and gossamer slashed with bolts of brightly coloured satin, Seed pearls or emerald or ruby and onyx sown in intricate patterns on the bodice, glistening like fruit split open. Diamonds to nestle in her hair and flash around her throat and wrist. And once, after an afternoon talking about their childhoods, a pocket sized book on Philosophers of ancient Greece.

But much as she adored the gifts – they were nothing to how she adored the man who brought them.

Anna was well aware she was running out of the precious reprieve Wanda had given her. Half a month already had been wasted to these days with Remy, and always Anna would tell herself that today she would confront Logan, find out the truth of her birth, and then Remy would appear with a velvet riding cape slashed with silk and lined in squirrel fur, and suddenly everything blew out of her mind.

It was stupid. She knew it. She hated it. But she could not seem to stop herself doing it.

She didn't to ask herself why, and she hated that too.

But more then that, she hated how Remy could only grab a few hours in a day to speak to her. She hated Henri, Mercy and Clive for escaping to Paris for a couple of months and leaving Remy with work she knew bored and tired him. She hated that he still slept away at night. She hated that she didn't want him too.

Every night he left her with a grin and a look of pure hunger. Every night she saw him glance toward the bed he'd left and disappear till the morning. Every morning the hunger would vanish back behind the cool, collected mask.

She wondered where he was sleeping. Wondered who he was sleeping _with_.

Anna leant back against the ancient oak and sighed. The Lebeau gardens were a beautiful sight, the acres of manicured grass balanced out by the wildness of swampland it connected onto, the trees and plants and bushes divided into sections of garden – none more beautiful then the little patch of wilderness that Rogue had found tucked away behind a stone wall and heavy wooden door.

Mattie had told her the garden had been built decades ago. She said that the owner of the house – the then King of thieves - had fallen in love with the Queen of assassins, who, though not strikingly beautiful, was quick and clever and gentle, sharp and intoxicating. In the dead of night he stole her away, and the Assassin king was outraged at the loss of his bride.

According to Mattie, the adulterous King and Queen were tried before an impartial Guild, and the Queen was told to return to her husband, who would commit her free spirit to a wing in his household where she would never be allowed to leave. The thief, unwilling to release her to this fate, built a secret garden for his love, and hid her there, visiting only when he had the chance.

Anna thought Mattie's tale was fanciful and romantic, but Mattie swore it was true.

"De wall was covered 'n ivy once" She said, "'e grew 't t' hide de door in case de assassins came lookin' f'r her. Of course, de assassin King was n't appeased, 'nd struck down 'is rival 'n anger. After 'e was dead dere was no one t' find de door – or 'ts key – 'nd no-one coul' do anyt'ing but whisper t' de Queen t'rough de cracks 'n de wall. 'f y' quiet, on a moonless nigh' y' c'n hear 'er, sobbing 'er poor broken heart away. Dat was de day de war started Rogue – Love began dis war, and nough' but love c'n end 't again."

Rogue's smile died as those words echoed round her head. Love will end the war. Love between the two royal children. Remy and Belle – destined to rule the guilds together, whilst she watched from the sidelines she'd been graced with as a first cousin. She had known Remy and Belle were to marry before she'd even ended up here by chance. But she also knew that neither was in love with the other, that they didn't even _like_ each other.

Alliances between guilds were common – necessary even. But what if Remy and Belle decided _not_ to marry? It was their lives after all; they were the ones that were stuck with each other for life, and that way….

…That way what? Remy would sweep her up into his arms and declare ever-lasting love? No. Not ever. Even if Remy and Belle did decided they weren't to marry – she and Joseph had both given their consent to their arrangement. Besides that, marriage to a minor assassin house was not on the cards for the adoptive son of Jean-Luc Lebeau….

A sudden thought made AnnaMarie sit up. _Adoptive_ son? Rogue hadn't really thought much about Jean-Luc since he'd left, in her mind he was the fuzzy, murderous face she had imagined since her mother's accident, and she had never really questioned the fact that Remy had been adopted. But the similarities between Remy and his father were striking and definite, and more then a son trying to emulate the father he adored.

Perhaps he was Jean-Luc's son. A bastard perhaps? But then, there were hints that Jean-Luc had many Bastards, including a girl he kept in very nice accommodation further north. Why pretend that Remy was adopted? Besides that, she'd heard Henri talking about _their_ mother. And, now that she thought about it, she had a vague recollection of Mattie telling Mercy how Clive was the spitting image of Remy when he was a baby.

But if Remy _was_ Jean-Luc's, why would the guild carry on the farce that Remy had been adopted?

"Penny f'r y' t'oughts?"

Rogue jumped, then scowled, annoyed she'd been caught unawares as Remy sauntered across the cobbled path and lay on his side next to her, fixing her with an intense look and an aloof, wolfish grin.

"Y' look mighty guilty _chere_," he husked, eyes unconsciously trailing the curve of a curl that had escaped the mass atop her head, then leant in to whisper, "Wern' t'inkin' naughty t'oghts 'bout _moi_ where y'?."

"You bet." Rogue teased, "Really naughty ones."

He raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Oh yeah, Ah was jus' mentally plannin' on where ta hide th' body."

"Ouch, Cherie. What a sharp tongue y' have."

"Ya have no idea."

"_Non_," the other agreed, a playful glint dancing in his burning eyes, "But Remy sure woul' _like_ to…"

Sighing heavily and rolling her eyes, Rogue leant back against the tree, watching the grass rippling in a warm wind that was light as a thief. Mid spring was always her favourite time of year. The perfect balance of the first flushes of new life merging with the promises of the vibrancy the summer brings.

"It's beautiful." She sighed wistfully, not realising the words were escaping her, "Ah could stay here forever."

"Y' coul', y' know." Remy's eyes were intense, sincere. " I'd like y' to."

Rogue turned away, unable to take the look he gave her. "'Nd what would happen t' meh when the new wife comes t' stay?"

She heard the hiss of air through teeth as his breath escaped him. "Oh, Chere -,"

"Ah'm not an idiot Remy. Ah've known ya were getting' married ta Belle since Ah got here. But it's time we were practical now, we've been dancing roun' each other like what we have has a future. But all we will ever have is these stolen moments. There ain' no future in what we have."

Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned her to face him again. "I ain't de firs' man t' take a mistress Chere."

"Ah'm worth more then that Remy."

"I know." He husked, the twin red orbs boring into her, "I know."

A long moment passed, each of them acutely aware that the time they had was limited and precious, and when Rogue turned her head away, Remy slipped his arm about her, unwilling to let her go. The silence stretched between them, and Remy felt as if the rare treasure that he held slipped away from him more and more every second.

It made him feel sad, and unconsciously, he tightened his grip – pressing his nose into her hair and laying a kiss on her temple.

"O'course." He whispered, delighted at he shiver that she tried to hide, "I coul' jus' lock y' in here like de old Kings did."

He smiled at the sound of her laughter, and Rogue herself was grateful for his lightening the mood.

"Remy?" She breathed, and Gambit could hear the drowsiness in her voice.

"Hmm." He answered, subtly shifting his weight so he could see her face.

Green, green eyes looked up at him, "Wha' happened ta yoah parents?"

Remy tensed, ten thousand lies, dodges and bantering jokes springing to his tongue. And then he looked into the green, green eyes, and found himself speaking.

"_Mon mere_ didn't wan' me. Jean-Luc did." A thousand memories of the mother who had despised him swam afore his eyes. Her giving Henri a present, her swooping Henri into a hug, laying a kiss on Henri's cheek, snapping her hand back before he could reach it…

"T' appease 'er, dey decided dat dey woul' tell ev'ryone I was adopted, even came up wit' dis story o' how I tried t' pick 'is pocket in de streets," he smiled, remembering the pride in his fathers voice as he told the other guild leaders of his new sons skill. Remembering the look in his father's eye when he returned from his first heist. Remembering the day his father had told his mother to keep a civil tongue when speaking to _his_ son. Remembered the way Claudette wrinkled her nose like he was a bad smell she just couldn't get rid of…

He came back to earth to find Rogue staring at him in complete horror.

"Don' look at me like dat _chere_, not y'."

Her brow furrowed, lines marring her forehead, "Like what?" She breathed.

"Like 'm de most pitiful t'ing y' ever seen in y' life." He couldn't meet her eyes, managed a weak smile. "I get dat fr'm everyone else, but I don' wan' y't' look at me differen'…"

She hated the tears pooling in her eyes, knew he would hate them too, so willed them not to fall.

What on earth was _wrong_ with her?! She was an assassin! She was strong, fearless. She had learnt to put her emotions into a secondary category – they were not as important as getting a job done. Emotions were hindrances – you suppress them, that's your job…

So why couldn't she seem to stop them now? Why was Remy's pain causing her so much agony? Why couldn't she even _hide_ the effect?

A tiny voice whispered an answer she simply could not accept, and she buried it in a box in her head.

"Y' know," Remy breathed, "f'r so long, I bin an outsider, felt…secondary. But wit' you…s'like I don' care what dey t'ink, s'long as you…I dunno…"

"Maybe…" Anna breathed, feeling as though she were stepping over some dangerous lines, "Maybe it's because…Ah'm an outsider too…we match, fit together…"

His smile shone with hope so intense, it radiated from his dark, dark eyes. "Like a puzzle."

He looked so much like a child in that instant; she couldn't help but smile back. And for a second she forgot. Forgot who he was and what he stood for. She forgot that he was set to marry her cousin…

And then it all came crashing back.

She turned away, the hopelessness of her situation overwhelming her. What was she doing here? There was absolutely no proof Logan was her father, she had come across nothing to suggest that the guild had anything to do with her mothers death, and now she was here, she couldn't believe these people were capable of such an atrocity.

All she had were silly dreams and half—baked accusations. So why didn't she go home?

Remy Lebeau.

That's why.

She was in love with a man who didn't even know who she really _was_.

Belle always said she was stupid.

She was right.

For the first time in a long time, Anna Marie hung her head.

And wept.

_**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**_

The silver haired man behind the desk crossed one long leg over the other, allowing his well built, lithe frame to fall back into the cushions and leather of the wing-backed seat.

Behind him, his platinum-haired sons stood at opposite ends of the room, eyeing their guest with twin dislike in their cool blue eyes. No more then two years apart in age, but as opposite as it was possible to be in every other way but one.

They looked like the powerful, calculating man in the chair, and were nothing like him at all.

The huge, barbaric man in the seat facing them chuckled to himself. How fitting that the man to value sons would find such disappointment in both of his.

The daughter was the child he should have kept.

The powerful man knew that now, the guest supposed. He saw himself in that woman his daughter had become. She could be cold, she could be calculating, she could have power indescribable.

She had her fathers' mind, she had her mothers' spirit, and she had the raw talent, ability and the capacity for cruelty both his sons lacked.

Provided that assassin had not corrupted her with the ideals of fairness and freedom.

"This is to be done with as little fuss as possible." The powerful man spoke in his heavy, gravely tone. "Her…disappearance is not to be marked as…unusual. Do you understand?"

The guest grinned, that appeared to be answer enough.

The powerful man steepled his fingers together, "I understand she has been…fraternizing with this…thief. If it is possible, I want you to make the assassins aware of that."

"You want it to look like the job was done by thieves; I'll let 'em sees me do it."

The powerful man gave a wry smile, "I need you to be…undetected, for as long as possible." He said in that slow, deliberate way of talking. "You must still have the trust of the guild, for those…other reasons we discussed."

"Lebeau an' his woman?"

Out the corner of his eye, The Guest saw the elder son flinch at his words, clench a fist at his side, drag a hissing breath through clenched teeth. The Guest was amused.

The father had noticed too. The Powerful Man was irked. He tilted his head back toward his guest. "Yes. Mr. Lebeau. But those plans are in waiting." The Powerful man rose. "I want to see if you are as good as you say you are first."

The Guest rose too, squaring his shoulders. "I decided what I want."

The Powerful man inclined a head, indicating The Guest to continue.

"I want Wolverine."

The other was not pleased by that, doubtless he had his own plans for that one. But after a moment he inclined his head. "Agreed."

The Powerful Man extended a hand, "Until next time then, Mr. Creed."

The Guest took it, "I guess so, Mr. Lensherr."

Behind them, his two sons looked away.

The elder for distaste of the whole meeting, and what it meant to one he'd pledged himself to.

And the younger out of total fear for the twin he hadn't seen in years, the other half of his soul.

_**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**_

_**Wow, this update is late…very, very late – but hey, it's an update…**_

_**Reading through this story, I am mortified to realise there are, rather significant plot holes, I can't apologise enough for that – I was a lot younger when I started this story, and had no conceivable idea of how the hell it was going to end.**_

_**I have never planned a story, I know that makes me a terrible author, but I seemed to be allergic to plans, every chapter is born out of how I feel like doing things that day.**_

_**I write, purely to write, for no other reason then that.**_

_**So, it is with a heavy heart I must beg the readers (that would be you) to please ignore the little (or large) mistakes. I do know where I'm going now, and the end may soon be in sight!**_

_**So now that's over with; Why don't you press that little button, it's calling you. And you know you wanna answer ;)**_


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